In just 20 minutes

It was a normal day.

I went to pick up Schäfer from preschool. His teacher informed me that Schäfer spit on the floor twice. She innocently asked me, “Do you spit on the floor at home?” The terror on my face confirmed that we, in fact, do not spit on the floor. (We’ve been having a lot of problems with spitting because Schäfer is so inspired by the old men who constantly clean their throats out onto the sidewalks.)

After some verbal correction, we headed to the market because I needed eggs for lunch.

It’s been a while since I’d been there with both kids. The lady next to the egg vendor started speaking to me about the kids.

Those are your kids?
Yes.
Which one is a boy which one is a girl?
She’s a girl. He’s a boy.
Your son is so much more beautiful than your daughter.
Both my kids are pretty.
No. Your son is much more white. He is more beautiful. Look how big his eyes are.

(I am livid inside because I realize that it won’t be long before Sianna completely understands what people say.)

Both my kids are beautiful.
No. Your son is much more beautiful than your daughter.

(I pay for the eggs and leave. In this culture, comparisons are normal – even completely unfair ones.)

On the way out of the market, I spot some large lychee on ice and decide that some cold fruit would be perfect so I stop the bike and place my order. After I’d paid, I put the lychee on the bike and started to leave. Well, the road was slick so the bike slid out from me with both kids in their seats.

I grabbed the bike before it had a chance to slip all the way down. Neither of the kids were hurt and it happened so quickly that neither of them cried.

My eggs however were all over the street. Instead of helping me with the bike, which I was holding on it’s side about a 35 degree angle to the ground, people were picking up the eggs. Finally a couple of guys came over and helped me get the bike straight. With Sianna at almost 20 pounds in the front and Schäfer over 35 lbs. in the back it was quite heavy to tilt upwards on the slick road.

Once I was handed my bag of remaining eggs, I hooked them on the handle bars and headed home. Of course, on the way home, Sianna discovered the eggs and somehow managed to throw some before I realized what she was doing.

So in 20 minutes:

my son continues to express himself through spitting

the lady next to my egg vendor adds 10 years of therapy to my daughter

the bike almost slipped over with both kids strapped in

Sianna has now officially “egged” our nice neighborhood

For all the times that I feel really comfortable here, in just 20 minutes I can be quickly reminded that I am still on a journey in a land that is not my own.

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