Introduction

The kiddo was chatting with a lady at the grocery store.

"Nice to meet you. This is my friend Mama."

Change is hard

While vacuuming, I rotated the kitchen table about 45 degrees, so the kiddo had a slightly different view from her clip-on highchair.

Her, despairing: My chair! MY CHAIR! Where is it?
Me: You mean the one you're sitting in?
Her, relieved: It's right here!

Affirmed

It was the kiddo's birthday.

T.G: Isn't this the best cake you've ever had?
Kiddo: This is the best cake in the WORLD!

It was this chocolate cake (in two 8-in. layers) with this strawberry buttercream, by the way.

Shocked, shocked

T.G. was singing "Bohemian Rhapsody" to himself when the kiddo confronted him.

"Daddy?! You killed a man?!"

Doom

The kiddo scattered her peanuts all over the backseat of the car, so I was giving her a little scolding while I unbuckled her. She looked up at me with her halo of curly blond hair and her big blue eyes.

"But I'm cute."

Hoo boy.

Cuddly

The kiddo had a babysitter last night, so today she keeps coming to me, giving me a hug, and saying, "I'm so GWAD you're HEWE."

American foodways

A lot of the connection I have with my ethnic heritage is food-related, some of it near-term (the Minnesota-specific, Scandinavian-influenced, and Midwestern parts), some more remote (the Mennonite parts and the Danish aebleskiver, which I inherited from my mother, despite the Danish ancestors being in the paternal part of the tree). My in-laws also eat in a typically Midwestern way, with an overlay of traditional New Mexican flavors.

So I often think about the how the foods I feed my daughter differ from what I experienced growing up. Tonight, the kiddo was watching T.G. spoon beans and rice onto a tortilla, and I said to her, "Daddy is making a burrito."

"No way!" she said, "It's not a burrito; it's a tortilla."

At 23 months, I'm sure I had never even heard the words tortilla or burrito. Mexican food meant tacos. We didn't have tortillas, we had soft-shells for our tacos. I'm pretty sure the first burrito I encountered was a McDonald's breakfast burrito. Or maybe something more enchilada-like at Mrs. Lady's in Okoboji.

I feed my family a lot of Asian-influenced food, American-style Chinese, Thai, or Indian. Then there are the Turkish, Middle-Eastern, and Mediterranean flavors we like. Even in the realm of something as "normal" as Italian food, I first had fresh, soft mozzarella cheese on a ham sandwich in Italy when I was 15. Now even the supermarket in my small, rural hometown has two or three varieties. I make and freeze my own authentic-ish refritos, and I've done New Mexican chiles rellenos and posole from scratch.

On the other hand, roasted chicken, meat-and-potatoes meals, grilled cheese and tomato soup, and tuna salad are all in frequent rotation. Some of my family traditions that the kiddo has had include thin, crepe-like pancakes; ham-green bean soup; tweback; pfeffernusse; schnetke; cucumber salad; portzilke; and cherry moos. I still need to introduce her to verenike, canned/stewed beef (with the delightful Low German name dampfleisch), kringles, cheese buttons, rommegrot, lefse, aebleskiver, and borscht (which in our tradition is cabbage-and-tomato based, not beets). Maybe lutefisk, or not.

One's family heritage comes out in a lot of unexpected ways. My little Northern-European mutt says noodles; a quarter-Italian of the same age whom we know says pasta.

Impossible

We've been having this exchange regularly for the last month or so.

Me: How old are you?
Kiddo: Three months.
Me: No, sweetie. Say "Almost two."
Her: A'most... two?
Me: How old are you?
Her: Three months!

Fortunately, I think I finally got her trained into the right answer today.

Bossy

Kiddo was going to bed at Grandma's house.

Me, sappy: I love you.
Her: Turn the light off.

The next night—

Me: Goodnight!
Her: Close the door.

Are you sure?

We had to stay late at church, which means both lunch and naptime are delayed, so we got a quick lunch at Wendy's. I handed the kiddo a chicken nugget.

"Chicken nu'et. This is food?"

She remains skeptical of Arby's "roast beef," too, so I think we can conclude that she is much wiser than the rest of us.