To commemorate passover, Rico decided to make matzo meal pancakes for breakfast this morning. Kooka managed to eat a couple. Punk (after declaring them to taste like oversalted eggs), poured half a cup of powdered sugar on on his plate and proceeded to eat all 5. I couldn't manage to swallow the one bite I took - even after Rico said, "they are supposed to remind you of suffering." (They did)
He was thrilled however that Yoda ate all three of hers without comment or complaint. He declared it a testament to her 32.4% Hebrew DNA that she was able to choke them down. I however, have a hard time crediting her gastronomical choices to her jewish ancestry. There was certainly no hispanic geneology helping her put away that whole burrito she ate last week - and I'm pretty sure it wouldn't explain the half carton of lo-mein she scarfed in one sitting either.
But I digress.
When Rico and I first decided to take the plunge and become a family, there was much talk about child-rearing, and traditions, and religion, and how those would play a part in all of our lives. And next week, for the first time ever, Rico will have all of his kids here - celebrating Easter together - building new memories and maybe even new traditions.
Let's hope those pancakes aren't one of them.