**Mildly Important Note: Hello from Death Hell Heat'd Dallas! The Pretties are jet-setting around visiting family this week, so please forgive my erratic posting & commenting for the duration. Given that you - all three of you - hang on my every word, I realize what a hardship this is. Thank you for your understanding.
I've droned on here before about teaching Master P about my Southern California homeland and questioned why, after six years (!) here in the Great State, I'm still compelled to describe it as "home" and pass a taste of it onto him. As much as I love my life here & want my wee Texan to learn native skills like football and chivalry - not necessarily in that order - I still chew on what it means to be raising a child here.
Is all the pondering because I'm homesick? Looking to make my stamp on my son, who already looks & inevitably will act much like his Texan father? Desperate for blog material?
All of the above, probably, but today I'm less concerned with the whys & more happy with my Californiazation (deemed a word here at the Pretty) scheme for its own sake. Today marks a historic first in the life of Master P, made even more special by the presence of fellow Texifornian & gorgeous creature Shabby Princess:
Yes, that's an In n' Out French Fry my boy is nearly fainting over, and I couldn't be more pleased by passing along my California legacy via . . . God's Chosen Cheeseburger? Hmm. Though the nostalgic food & chat with one of my favorite Invisible Internet Friends was mostly for my benefit, obvs I couldn't help but think there will be some other home goodness to teach him about. You Texans may have more land & better manners, but it'll be tough to beat that Pacific Ocean view he'll enjoy visiting one day.
Fast food favorites aside, we've had some other happy firsts here in the Big D:
If you'll forgive me the iPhone photo - I've bored you with tales of tricking both the Anonymous Husband and Master P into reading, but this is the first time I've witnessed Master P toddle up to the AH, make the "UP, UP!" flappy arm gesture and shove a book in his direction, indicating with a verve rarely seen outside a third world dictatorship that he'd like to read rightthisverysecond. So moved was I by this literary scene that my Icy Glare of Judgment has basically been disabled for the day, which is an issue when your 1-year-old is attempting to scale his aunt's staircase with a sippycup in one hand & dirty diaper in another.
On that schmaltzy note, I'm off to put my law degree to good use by cuddling - yes, cuddling, I admit it - the world's most well behaved newborn, reminding my ovaries that, based on evidence to date, my own personal newborns don't prefer cuddles nor good behavior. Down, ladyparts, down!
|Spitfire newborn though he was, at least he's fairly delightful now.|
For my fellow expats, where is home for you, and what do you hope to pass on to your own personal children it? Also, any advice for the ladyparts trying to trick me into having Imaginary Child #2?