Need Fish
Yesterday when I picked Cal up from kindy I let him take us on an adventure. He scooted us across the tram tracks, over the bridge and into a neighbourhood I'd never walked through. Then he found one of those little fish stands on the side of the road and announced, "Need fish."
"No," I answered making a face at the display of raw cold harring.
"Pleeease Mummy. Need fish."
And because I'm a sucker for his new-found manners, agreed.
The man sliced and diced a cold slippery piece of fish and presented it on the little white paper plate with a toothpick. I handed it to Cal. He looked dismayed. "Need Flag." Of course. The man dug around in the cupboard for a little Dutch flag toothpick and then Cal happily skewered his raw harring with me watching in awe.
Eating the harring is about as Dutch as you can get - and a weekly ritual with Oma and Opa - but it's still a surprise to see your kid doing something so out of your own existence. But then again he is half Dutch..
"No," I answered making a face at the display of raw cold harring.
"Pleeease Mummy. Need fish."
And because I'm a sucker for his new-found manners, agreed.
The man sliced and diced a cold slippery piece of fish and presented it on the little white paper plate with a toothpick. I handed it to Cal. He looked dismayed. "Need Flag." Of course. The man dug around in the cupboard for a little Dutch flag toothpick and then Cal happily skewered his raw harring with me watching in awe.
Eating the harring is about as Dutch as you can get - and a weekly ritual with Oma and Opa - but it's still a surprise to see your kid doing something so out of your own existence. But then again he is half Dutch..
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