It all started yesterday. We were walking the main street of Lakefield and popped into The Pantry for our usual, mini-bribe session. (Some people have children that go on long walks without bribery, some people don't.) Anyways, the fact that we have to resort to candy-dangling to enjoy the Canadian outdoors is not the point of this story (although you might not be able to surpass this fact as a Non-Briber, yourself). The point of this story is that while we were at the pantry, browsing the various versions of bribery, my daughter kneeled down and exclaimed with excitement, "I WANT SMARTIES!!!!!!!!"
GASP!!!!!!!!
If you're Canadian, it took me two photos to transport you from your couch (or wherever you're reading from) to Panic Attack City. So sorry about that, but friends don't let friends bare the burden of misconceptions alone. I mean, can I even call myself a parent?! And, with even more sorrow, I feel as though I've disappointed our beautiful country leading up to its big birthday bash. #Canada150
"THOSE ARE ROCKETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I reinforced, continuing to point out that even the label reads "ROCKETS" to my four year old that can't read yet.
Sigh.
This incident has forced me to reflect on our summer so far. The fact that we wear way more clothes than everyone else. Our oldest child asking if a plane must be boarded to get to Grampy's house (a ten minute ride away). Easter egg hunts in June. Seeing cows as part of the summer bucket list. Weird reactions to grass. A look of enchantment upon the discovery of a staircase. Double-takes outside of public schools, where the pride flag flies freely...
We stick out like a sore thumb, you guys. "Canadians" our passports say. "You are Canadian," we tell the girls. But it seems like our family quirks are starting to give us away. Our years abroad, taking our "Canadian" away.
One of the reasons I love writing is because in typing along, my mind goes into discovery-mode and I draw conclusions that I might not have noticed at first. You see, when I started this post, although humorous, I felt a real pang of sadness. I wondered what it must feel like for my girls to be Canadians But Not Really.
But then it came to me.
It is not our quirks that make us Canadian or Not. It is our values.
It's seeing that pride flag when it's not even there. It's saying "Ramadan Kareem" with as much enthusiasm as "Merry Christmas". It's building community with people from all over the world and making others feel welcome in a place that feels foreign.
"Canadians" our passports say. "You are Canadian," we tell the girls. And a big happy birthday to Canada, the country we will never, ever disappoint.