Acculturation

My sweet, strange little TCK’s.

To read more about Third Culture Kids, check out the previous post or this link.

Before Ethiopia, I had a dream of The Littles running free with all the village kids. It’s a dream that has not been realized for about 1,000 different reasons and I am not disappointed in The Littles. They have flexed and adapted well beyond what I thought they were capable. This credit goes straight to our God and all the prayers you have uttered on our behalf. 

They still do their fair share of playing with the neighborhood children, it just is different than I expected.

Somedays I wonder if they or we will ever really acculturate. We live in an “outsider” culture, simply explained by saying that our culture is one where if you come from somewhere else, that is always a part of one’s identity. Although, this has it’s own set of hope as an outsider can become a part of the community in their understood role as outsider, while still being seen as a beloved part of the tapestry. 

Other days, I laugh as I hear them playing and realize how far they have come. What is seen as “normal” to them is completely outside of my childhood realm of normal and comes with it’s own set of “yucks” and “yays”.

Like the day Debbie discovered The Littles didn’t know what ice was. Or carpet. Or the circus. There was the day when Little A asked, “Hey Mama, can we go to…Old Macdonalds? I remember we ate a hamburger there."

(Since taking their braids out, the girls have begged to keep their puffy hair as they can brush it themselves. So, we are going through a four day period when they are choosing all their own clothes and doing their own hair. Unless we are going out, then I choose non-dress up clothes and put their hair in a pony tail. They love it and we are continually amused).

Last week Jon didn’t finish his dinner and was quickly told, “Daddy, there are people out there without food! You should eat it and be content."

This shift in what is normal has been especially pronounced as they process our recent sheep purchase.

We have had this sheep or “cute, little lamb” as the girls call it. We made it clear from the day we brought it home that it would become our main dish at our upcoming party. As they have played with it, I overheard Little J soothe the sheep, “It’s okay, we aren’t going to eat you...today.” 

Two days ago I looked out and a strange dog was making it’s way towards our sheep. I yelled, “There’s a dog!” to our guard, who was in the backyard. I ran out the front door to chase it away, followed by the girls. From the porch, Little A yelled at the dog, “Hey, that’s our sheep, you can’t eat it! We are going to!"

Today, the girls came to me and said, “Mama, do you think we could have the sheep’s bladder and make it a balloon?” (Thanks a lot, Laura Ingalls Wilder) “Umm…ok...why don’t you talk to daddy about your idea .” I am not putting my lips on a sheep’s bladder.

My sweet, strange, poofy, little TCK’s.