Let's go... Tar Heels!

Like most parents, we've been working hard to raise our son right since the day he was born -- maybe even before then. We try to teach him about the big stuff, instruct him about the difference between right and wrong, help him to make good decisions, tell him about the importance of saving money and getting a good education. At our house, that means being brought up in the ways of Dean and Roy, of Hark the Sound and the Old Well, of Pepper's and Sunrise Biscuit Kitchen.

We are a Tar Heel family, with three Carolina degrees between us, and we want to be sure our children understand the significance. We also teach him about the Pirates (he's very good at saying "Argh" for his father's alma mater) and the Hokies (his grandfather's alma mater), but even his Daddy and his PopPop pull for the Tar Heels in most settings.

So it pains me greatly to share the following stories.

The first sign of failure occurred last Thanksgiving. Shortly after arriving at the grandparents' house, Junius was playing with the old Fisher-Price cash register (those old-school toys are still the best) when my sister-in-law asked him what he was going to do with all his money. He promptly responded, "I'm saving it for college" (so far, so good on the parenting). But when she asked him where he wanted to go to college, he quickly and clearly replied, "NC STATE!"

What?!

This is not what we've been teaching him. This is not what we talk about when we read I Want to Go to UNC. This is not why we bought him a Tar Heel National Championship onesie when I was six months pregnant. No no no, NO...

At first, I convinced myself it was a fluke, that he had the school names confused. Then I decided he must be spending too much time with our Wolfpack neighbors -- should have known those boys would be a bad influence. Now, it's happened enough times that I'm afraid he might actually mean it.

Okay, so I'm willing to cede a little ground to N.C. State. I actually like the Pack, as long as they're not playing the Heels (or the Hokies). We know some very nice, smart, successful people who went to school there. And if he decides he wants to be a graphic designer or an architect or an engineer, I'm all for sending Juni to NCSU.

But we draw the line at Dook. And we were pretty proud of ourselves for teaching him to say, "Boo Duke!" (although it sounds strangely like he's saying Bo Duke, as in the Hazzards, but I digress into my own childhood). There's even a Duke Street in our neighborhood and he says "Boo Duke!" every time we drive by. It was all going so well.

And then we went into Omega Sports over the weekend. Junius saw the Tar Heel display and said, "Look, Mommy -- it's Ramses!" (very nice, focused on our mascot). Then he ran to the Wolfpack display and announced, "It's N.C. State!" (Okay, fine). But then, as he walked past the Blue Devils paraphernalia, he said, "Yea! Go boo Duke!"

Argh. Back to school.