I’d like to report that although we live 3,000 miles away from our Italian side of the family, Alex and I are doing a splendid job of teaching Lucas about the other half of his culture. For example, the other night, my husband thought he’d help Lucas get in touch with his Italian side by teaching him to say, “I smack-a-da-booty!” while pinching his fingers together and wagging his wrist. Behold, the results:
Because we are nothing if not consistent in our stereotyping of my people, we dressed Lucas up as Super Mario for Halloween two years ago and taught him to say, “It’s-a-me! Mario!” and “Mama Mia!” Look what a cute little stereotype he was, though:
And since we’re obviously providing him with authentic Italian cuisine (bottled sauce with cut up hot dogs in the pasta), I think we’ve got our bases covered. Now we just need to work on his Mexican side. I plan on ordering him a sombrero and teaching him to say “orale!” while fondling his mustache and riding a burro. And since Lucas already doesn’t listen when Alex says, “Andale pues, chingate,” we plan to teach him how rough life can be by putting him out on the streets to sell chiclets.
This is just some of the fun you can have in a biracial family.
The Olive Gal
green of skin, black of heart
