Citizens of the World

Last week I fulfilled a months-old promise to Zora to make a big pot of Dutch split pea soup. She loves it. Not just for the taste, but also because, at age 3, she thought it was called “Spit Pee Soup,” and what preschooler doesn’t love a name that counts two bodily functions among its obscenity?

Two days later, there was a Flemish beef stew in the slow cooker. Zora, overcome with joy at the aroma, asked, “Is it split pea soup?” I explained, no it was not. But it was a recipe from a place close to where split pea soup comes from.

Zora was sure, then, that she would like this meal, too, since she is Dutch, and she likes split pea soup and this stew was from nearby.

Last night, we ordered Thai food (Zora’s request. I’ve done something right, I guess, if my kid request Thai rather pizza when we order out!)

And as she and Abram put away an order of spring rolls, Zora says, “Mom, I think Abram and me can be Thai and Dutch. Because we really like Thai food, too.”

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