My mom is visiting until next week. She arrived late (late-late) on Tuesday night, and since then she has:
Visited the Golden Gate Bridge.
Received tutoring in Wii Sports Resort Table Tennis from a four-year old
Visited Uncle Shopkeep Alexei at Fiat Lux.
Taught an indifferent waitress at a San Francisco restaurant the difference between French Fries and home fries; gotten her finger stuck in a ring at Uncle Shopkeep Alexei’s store; and washed the dishes (sneakily, after I caught her and stopped her from washing them yesterday).
In case you can’t tell from the pictures, or have never read any of my posts about the reservation, my mom is Mohawk, from Akwesasne. The Mohawk word for “grandma” (or grandpa) is tota, (pronounced du-da, or deux-da for you francophiles). Erin has always known my mom as her tota, but we’ve talked about what it means, and that her tota is my mom, and her grandma.
The other day, when Erin, in full Disney-girl mode, offered “I wish I could know an Indian Princess….” all I could think was: You already know one.