The doctor walks in when I am nursing, does a double take, and stammers.
Oh. Eh. Sorry.
She mutters my son’s name as she is leaving.
No, wait! That’s us.
Oh! Oh. Um. Eh. Alex? Yes? Wong?
I stop nursing and sit my son up to see her.
Yes. This is my son.
I understand that multiracial couples are still a minority, and that whites/Asians (or Orientals, as they are called here) are even more rare, and even more rare than that are white women with Chinese men, but lady, you work in a city of 7.5 million people, you can’t possibly be surprised by now.
We put Alex to bed last night as always. We read Goodnight Opus, and then I said goodnight to my boy, and Andrew said goodnight in Hakka. I tried to repeat it, but messed up, as usual. I try to get Andrew to speak Hakka as much as he can to Alex. I know 11 words total, and one of them is ‘fart’, so it’s all on my hubs. It’s weird, I think I am way more RAWR about Alex learning Cantonese than Andrew is. I guess I don’t want Alex to ever blame me for not learning it, ie. ‘I don’t have a connection to half my culture because of you!’. Trying to avoid teenage angst now, I guess.
Baby is actually taking a nap in his bassinet, trying to snarf down as much food as possible and type two handed before he wakes up. 🙂