Crackers about Texas

The other day I handed a full Graham cracker strip to my big kid, and he sat for a while, happily munching away in his sand box, one hand holding his cracker, the other absently digging with a fluorescent pink spade.

Eventually he passed what was left of the cracker back to me saying "No tanks, Mom!". He'd had his fill. I looked down at the cracker, weighing up whether or not I should polish off the leftover bit of cinnamon yumminess, and I could hardly believe my eyes...

I'm no Geography expert, by any means, especially when it comes to the States. However, it was even clear to me (a British ex-pat) that the leftover snack in my hand held an uncanny resemblance to the shape of Texas. No word of a lie!

I realize this would have been a corker of an April Fool's day blog - if it were a hoax - but I'm not kidding! My boy had literally chewed out Texas State. I was so impressed I held on to the Texas cracker to see what Daddy -a true Texan - had to say about it.

And Daddy - never the one to get overly excited about a miracle - confirmed in a very 'matter-of fact' tone,  "Oh look, It's Texas ......."

That's all I needed to hear! Maybe Mommy will never earn the right to call herself Texan, after all, these State Patriots won't let any Tom, Dick or Jane adopt the status. You need to have lived here all your life, likewise your flag-waving Granny, and her Gran, and so on. And preferably the original settlers that started your steadfast Texan Ancestry would have been Scottish, or even Irish - I'm not sure if English quite cuts the mustard!

But I don't care what they say about me, my boy is definitely a Texan through and through! And the cracker proves it - it's obviously already in his blood.

Of course we already knew that. He's the spitting image of his father - so I'm told by nearly everyone who casts eyes on his blonde hair, and piercing blue eyes. In fact, both boys favor Daddy's looks. Apparently, I'm just the host (and glorified Au Pair) to Daddy's little Texan offspring. My supposedly dominant genes, the brown hair and hazel eyes, have lost out twice already to my husbands weaker Aryan like features!

But Daddy wasn't finished with his inspection of the cracker;  "........ except, it's missing the panhandle!"

It seemed, our kid had reclaimed a chunk of New Mexico in his depiction of Texas. After a bit of Googling of old state lines, and territories, we stumbled across an old Texas (circa 1800), which was a dead ringer for the leftover cracker.

Could our little boy be an old Texan General incarnate? Maybe I should be saluting my little Brigadier instead of putting him in time-out each time he 'crosses the line'!