I am married to an American. I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before. My American wife has an American family consisting of an American mom (like a mum but more American), an American Dad and two American sisters. All but one of this American family live in – you guessed it – America. The other one lives in Chalfont St Peter and is married to my brother… but that’s another story.
Living over 3000 miles away from (the majority) of Faith’s family is a difficult pill to swallow for those living on both sides of the Atlantic. Especially since the boys arrived. But, over the past few weeks we’ve been reunited with them all. First Faith’s sister came over and last week it was the turn of Faith’s parents to embark on the 7000-mile round trip.
It’s quite a change of speed for Faith’s parents coming from a smallholding in the country to our living room floor (we did offer our room). We offered the touristy stuff. Even factored in a visit to the Roald Dahl museum but really it was all about the boys and teaching them the ways of ‘The South’ (Think North Carolina rather than Brighton).
Adlai didn’t need much encouragement – he’s already a big tractor lover and he’s strangely into the black and white version of ‘The Lone Ranger’. Yep, he puts at least two syllables into the word “dog” and “y’all” has been in his vocabulary for a while. Thanks to a handsome amount of grandparent gifts, both Adlai and Koa wear clothes almost exclusively featuring tractors or cowboys.
Fifteen years ago, I never would’ve imagined I’d be raising half-American sons, but I love ‘The South’ in both the boys. Like I loved it in their mama first.
