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Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Sorry, no sari

My children are odd.  But I'm used to it so they don't seem so odd to me any more.  There are a few instances of peculiar behavior that will forever stay in my head.  The sari years experience is one of them.

A was sure she was Indian.  She wanted to wear saris and bindi and all sorts of bling.  This started somewhere around the age of 3 or 4.  There were tears when I forbade her to wear saris to preschool.  Mind you, I played along enough to have quite a collection of saris.  At Halloween she wanted to be an Indian princess.  Actually she was an ice skating Indian princess.  Yes, she wore a sari on skates (not easy, in case you were wondering).  Santa put bindi in her stocking.  We accepted this part of her.

Then one day we were walking into Giant (grocery) when she announced "I hope today is the day I meet my birth mom".  Huh.  Um, I reminded her, you're a twin.  I'm your mom and M's mom.  "No, you're M's mom but my mom wears a sari."  Great.  It continued for a while longer and then seemed to fall out of her memory.  Thankfully.

I mentioned this story to Andrew (bf) a while back.  So when he saw there was an Indian event open to the pubic at the University, he sent me the flier.  We went tonight.

It was interesting.  There was dancing and music and speeches I didn't quite follow.  There were women who jingle-jangled with all their bling.  Very fun.

Then A leans over and says "I bet my birth mom is over there ......"

Nice.

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