Stories

Klara is a very good eater, which makes me fortunate in this way, too. She is the kid who yells “Mommy, I want broccoli!” at a restaurant, making me feel real proud as the patrons stare at me in shock. The only problem is that she won’t eat the same thing two days in a row, even if it’s something she really loves. She is like her Dad. The concept of leftovers is alien to her. So I get to cook a new meal every day whether I want to or not. It’s very unfair because I’m totally into leftovers. Everything tastes so much better three days later. But I’m alone in this in my house.

Yesterday, she was telling me about the upcoming trip to Florida. “I go to the beach (pronounced as ze bitz) with my Mommy, my Papa and my prunes (she loves prunes.) I take off shoes, I take off socks, I play hide toes in sand. I go restaurant, I eat manjuicy (mango lassi) and fish pakora. I no scream on ze bitz. I scream in the zeem (gym.)” It’s really cool that she can tell these long, complex stories.

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