My 5 – year – old niece Klubnikis stares at me with her deep, huge eyes and asks in a solemn voice, “Clarissa, will you be willing to try some of the food that Canadians eat? It’s good!”
“Are you Canadian?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says very seriously.
“Am I Canadian?” I ask.
Klubnikis takes a moment to examine me.
“You are Ukrainian!” she announces with conviction.
Clarissa's Blog 
No, you are not Canadian.
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I’m a citizen of Canada, actually.
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If she wins the Nobel prize, I bet you will consider her Canadian at once.
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The overwhelming test of Canadianness (in my experience).
Imagine you are in the US and some celebrity with some Canadian connection is on TV, the radio or just comes up as a subject of conversation. Do you casually mention apropos of nothing that said celebrity is Canadian?
yes – you are Canadian
no – you are not Canadian
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The problem is, I wouldn’t know a celebrity from my elbow. 🙂 But I knew I was Canadian when I realized that scrambled eggs and bacon were no good without being bathed in maple syrup and further when I felt extreme outrage when an American tourist in a bar asked that a hockey game be switched to something called “World Series. ” 🙂
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The baby always speaks the truth… 🙂 🙂
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I wonder what she thinks about her mother’s nationality. Canadian or Ukrainian?
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She has no nationality, she’s a mommy.
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I just asked. 🙂 She says her mother and father aren’t Canadian either. Mommy is Ukrainian and Daddy is Pevoovian. 🙂 (He’s from Peru).
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