Only a foreign service kid has ’embassy’ as one of their first 50 words.
“Okay. Now you need to get dressed and then we will go to the Embassy!” She tells her baby brother who happily crawls after her – just thrilled to be included in her game.
She’ll wander into the room I’m in with shoes on backwards and backpack straps twisted, “Mama. I’m going to the Embassy, I’ll see you later!”
When I inquire – what will you be doing there? She replies, “working with Daddy.” Or something along those lines.
Now that we are in Virginia, she is spending a lot of time with her cousins – one of whom is exactly her age. They are sweet and funny to watch. Playing so nicely one second, and the next fighting and screaming over sharing one coveted toy.
Just last weekend I overheard my daughter ask her cousin as they climbed into a toy car and motorcycle in the backyard, “Do you want to go to the Embassy with me?”
Confused, my niece looked at Ingrid for a minute before replying, “Do you mean the dentist?”