One night, my little one is looking for a snack. We had sushi earlier, which is a great dinner, but you still need a snack before bed; at least she does.
I suggested she have one of the Asian pears I just bought. She looks at the pears. Then turns to look at me. Her very matter-of-a-fact response was, “Mom, you know I only eat American pears.”
If I had been drinking something, it would most definitely be all over my laptop. Luckily, I didn’t choke and just laughed. So I break the news to my half-Filipina child. “Dear, you do realize you are half Asian, right?” The look of disbelief on her face was hysterical. I know we’ve had this conversation before, but it was funny. A few moments later, she broke out in song about being American and Asian. She’s now, according to her, AmAsian (pronounced “amazin”).
I never can tell what she is thinking or how her thoughts will spill out of her mouth. All I know is I have the makings of a hysterical book taking shape with every utterance she gives.