Cultural Confusion

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.  🙂