After being in Korea for a week, yesterday afternoon I had the chance to Skype with my two oldest daughters. It was late night for them; my middle daughter was doing homework and my oldest daughter was just keeping her company I guess. We talked about what they have been up to this week and what their brother and I have been doing. It was great to see their smiling faces and hear their laughter. About twenty minutes into the conversation a thought hit me and I blurted out, “Wow! You two look really Asian!” That brought on a round of laughter; even my youngest son sitting next to me snickered. My middle daughter, through her laughter, said, “Mama, we ARE Asian!” while my oldest daughter, also through her laughter, said, “Yeah, well that’s a big surprise.” After a week of seeing almost nothing but Asians, suddenly their Asian-ness – their looks, their expressions, their beauty – jumped out at me from the computer screen. We all laughed about my obviously silly statement, but the reality is, while I know they’re Asian, while I’m thrilled that they’re proud of their Korean heritage, when I look at them on a daily basis, I don’t see “Asian”, I just see my kids.