Category Archives: Child rearing

Questions about mother’s milk, boobies, and what kind of milk comes out of a mother’s breasts

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In the last few weeks, Kaia has been thinking a lot about babies eating, feeding on mother’s breasts, and what she ate when she herself was a baby. This was all prompted last month when Chris’s cousin was visiting with her four-month-old baby, who is breastfed via her mother’s breasts. After an initially difficult road learning to feed, this little baby feeds on the boob like there’s no tomorrow. When she eats, Chris’s cousin said, everyone can hear her sucking and slurping away!

When the baby would feed, occasionally Kaia would come over and watch. Other times, she’d watch from a nice distance and comment to Chris or me that the “baby is eating.” Since then, she’s had all kinds of questions about how she ate when she was a baby.

“MAMA! When I was a baby, did I eat from your boobie?” Kaia asked.

“Sort of,” I responded honestly. “Sometimes you ate from mama’s boobies, and most other times you had mama’s milk out of a bottle because mama had to pump milk for you… because you had a weak suck!”

“I had milk from your boobies here?” Pookster replied, pointing at my breasts. “My mama’s big boobies!”

“Yes, you had milk from my boobies here,” I said back, smiling.

“Mama! Can I have some milk now?” Kaia said eagerly. And then without even waiting, she tried to pull down my shirt, get into my breast, and chew my nipple. Luckily, I had fast reflexes and prevented this from happening. And then alas, a tantrum erupted.

“I WANT BOOBIE MILK!” she yelled, demanding that she get breast milk that instant. I told her that there was no more boobie milk, that the boobie milk was there only when she was a baby. And now that she’s a big girl, her mama is all dried up (yes, really).

And just yesterday, she started caressing my chest while we were lying down before bedtime, and she asked, “Mama! Your boobies had milk when I was a baby? Was it cow or oat milk?”

I cracked up at this. “Kaia! It’s mama’s breast milk. It’s mama’s milk, mommy’s milk, mumma’s milk just for Kaia! No cow, no oat! Mama milk!” I responded, laughing.

“But if it’s not cow or oat, then what is it?” Kaia said back, clearly very confused. All she has known during her speaking life is cow or oat milk. And even though she’s had soy milk (fresh) and maybe some almond milk, those types don’t really mean anything to her.

And these are the toddler conversations I love and hope to remember always.

Love, presence, and attention

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A few months ago when reading about child rearing and stopping intergenerational trauma, I read a single line that stayed with me, and I ended up writing it down to remember. “Kids just want love, presence, and attention.” It seems simple and straightforward enough, but given that the expectations of parenting, child-rearing, and well, living. have gone up, what can seem simple on paper can be challenging to execute in real life. With social media, work at all hours, and addictions to phones/devices, simply giving your child undivided attention and your “presence” may be a big, big ask.

Kaia, in her increasing verbal and communicative abilities, has made requests for things she wants, and we try to deliver them, within reason. Most Sundays when we have no plans the last several months (and when swimming class has been cancelled given our nearby pool has been closed for maintenance), I’ve taken her up to our building pool so that she can play in the water while wearing her puddle jumper/floatie. She also loves to ask for hugs and cuddles. Last night when I got up at around 11:15pm to wake her for a dream-pee, she actually already woke up to come find me. As soon as I came out of the bedroom, I saw her standing there looking straight at me, as though anticipating my coming out. She held her arms open and ran into me. Then, I picked her up, kissed her, and carried her into her bathroom so she could have her first of her two nightly dream-pee sessions. After she was done, we wiped and flushed, and I carried her back to her bed to tuck her in. She hugged me again and turned to her side to sleep.

I don’t know why, but in that moment, I just felt really loved… and needed. She needed mama’s love, presence, and attention in that moment, and I came to give it to her. I think that if anything, being a parent definitely gives a sense of purpose, of meaning, that nothing else can really compare to it. When you become a parent, you are 100 percent in charge of ensuring that this little blob of a being is taken care of, fed, sheltered, and loved. I love going to sleep at night and waking up in the morning knowing she is excited to see me, wants my kisses and cuddles, and needs me. It’s a really amazing feeling to be both loved and needed. And I love that she shows her affection with zero abandon.

On the flip side, I also feel sad because when I think of a child’s need for “love, attention, and presence,” I don’t think Ed got much of that with either of our parents. Our dad rarely gave us attention or any real presence growing up. Our mom spent more time yelling at us for things we didn’t do properly and definitely hit and smacked Ed way more than he probably needed to be. And with “love,” well, “love” can be shown in a lot of ways, but I also get the feeling that our mom didn’t give as much affection to Ed as she did with me, and our dad, to this day, doesn’t know what the word “affection” means. I’ve come to accept my parents and how they raised me overall; I’ve made peace with the fact that they did some things right, some things okay, and a lot of things wrong. But I don’t think I’ve come to terms with how they were with Ed. Though with this piece, I think the only way I will truly accept it is by trying to give Kaia all the things I think Ed was deprived of. So every day, I try to give Pookster my love, attention, and presence, and hope that it all works out… and that hopefully one day, she will look back at her childhood and think it was a truly happy, loving one, where she was seen, cared for, and deeply loved.

The little train playground and the power of Kaia’s memory

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After a morning of roof time, a flu vaccine, and puddle jumper in the pool “swimming,” Kaia ate lunch, and I asked if she wanted to go to the little train playground in Riverside Park. She said she did, so I gathered her things and brought her to the playground. When we got there, she immediately asked if her friend Camille would be there. I was stunned; she played with a little friend named Camille in early June, which was the last time we came to this playground. I befriended her mom, and we exchanged numbers to potentially arrange future play dates.

I texted Camille’s mom to see if they were in the area, but unfortunately, her baby was napping. So she said they wouldn’t be able to come out until 4:30-5, which was the time I was planning to leave to get dinner ready. I told Kaia that she wouldn’t be able to see Camille today, and though she was sad, she moved onto other play structures. Because of Camille’s mom’s message, we went down closer to Pier I to see what kid festivities there were, and lucky for Kaia, there were two bouncy slides and a bouncy castle waiting for her! Nothing gets her more excited than bouncy structures! When I found out that it was free entry and not a private event (just to be sure), she immediately took off her sandals, handed them to me, and got in line for the castle. She ended up spending more time on the bouncy slide since it didn’t have a time limit like the castle. It was a far more eventful afternoon for Kaia at Riverside Park than I had originally imagined!

I was happy to let Kaia take part in all the kid fun, but I think what really shocked me was the power of her memory at such a young age. We’re already halfway through September, yet she still remembered the name of a kid she met and played with just once over three months ago at this same playground. Every time I hear people talk about toddlers as though they’re unintelligent, babbling, nonsensical beings, I always feel a bit defensive inside because I know exactly how quickly they learn and absorb new things, and how intelligent they really are — all by observing and interacting with my own Kaia Pookie.

Kaia serves mama “breakfast” in bed

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A friend of mine recently asked me what I loved most about motherhood. It’s hard to sum up in a sentence or two, but if I had to try, I’d say that I love watching Kaia grow and develop the most. I love seeing how she learns things and applies them, and I love seeing how she tries to surprise and impress us. This morning, she woke up at around 6:15am and came to our bed with all her favorites in tow, like her stuffed animals and toys-of-the-moment. When I thought she was going to lie down and cuddle with me, that only lasted for a few minutes. Then, she got restless and went off to retrieve some more toys. Next thing I knew, I was turning off my phone alarm on my bedside table, and there was a little play plate with lobster, cake, and a cupcake waiting for me!

“Mama, here,” Pookster said to me, pointing at the plate. “This is breakfast for mummy!”

I was so touched. She “prepared” me a plate of breakfast and wanted me to “eat it.” I gave her a big hug and thanked her, then I pretended to eat the breakfast before whisking her off to choose her clothes for the day and feeding her a real breakfast of whole wheat-oat-yogurt pancakes. She whined and whinged because I wouldn’t give her “time to play” before breakfast, but well, we had to power through the morning so that Chris could take her to school on time. And so the morning went.

I just love these little moments so much. They last for just minutes, if not seconds, but I always want to bottle them up and put them on a pedestal and remember them forever. I try to savor it as much as I can… until the next revolt or toddler tantrum erupts!

Phone calls from PoPo and GongGong

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Since we got back from San Francisco, my mom has been calling occasionally to see how Kaia is adjusting to preschool and being back in New York. Given that Kaia is turning four in just a few months, she’s definitely far more aware of her surroundings and what’s being said around her now than she was one year ago. When people call, she always asks who it is. And now, she’s been requesting that we call PoPo and GongGong. She wants to “see” them via the video chat, but she doesn’t quite understand (or accept) that they refuse to do video calls with us, and that with them, it will always be voice-only.

The other day, my mom called, and Kaia asked if it was PoPo (she could probably recognize her voice through my phone) and asked if she could talk to her. She started waving and saying hi to PoPo. When PoPo asked her if she enjoyed San Francisco, Kaia responded, “Yes.” When PoPo said to Kaia, “Kaia, I love you!” Kaia even responded with, “I love you, too.” Even though I obviously have a complicated relationship with my parents, this still made me feel really happy inside to hear them communicating back and forth like this over the phone. I smiled at Kaia talking to her PoPo and then started laughing when Kaia replied “No!” when PoPo asked if she could come to New York and visit her.

Right after we got off with my mom, out of nowhere, my dad called. My dad hasn’t called me in three years since that difficult email exchange we had in August 2022, when he lashed out at me over something completely innocuous and lost his temper in a big way. He asked if Kaia was there, and then he actually asked to talk to her! I put my dad on speaker phone, and he asked Kaia how school was, if she was going home, and then called her a “good girl.” Kaia kept yelling excitedly, “GongGong! GongGong!” Then, he turned back to me and said it was time to go, and to take care. Then, we said bye and hung up.

I don’t think I will ever have an uncomplicated, 100 percent peaceful relationship with my parents where we fully understand or even accept each other. But after all that’s happened in our life together, I know deep in my soul that they tried the best that they could… even if their best was not always great with Ed or me. I know they love me and want what’s best for me. At the end of the day, I have an infinitely better and more privileged life than they could have ever even imagined for themselves. And a lot of it is because of them and what they’ve given me. And well, even if our relationship continues to be complicated, annoying, and absolutely infuriating, I do want them to have a relationship with Kaia, their only grandchild, and I want Kaia to know them and love them. So, these brief little phone exchanges have had a weird way of almost feeling like bits of healing for me.

I hope Ed is able to see all of this and smile down at us. I only wish he could also interact with Kaia directly in the flesh now.

First day of Pre-K was what I expected: lots of “big feelings”

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Thursday was Kaia’s first official day of Pre-K, aka 4K, aka preschool. She’s attending the same school as she did 3K, so same commute down to Chinatown, same building, same set of faces. But this time, she’s in a different classroom with different teachers and maybe a few different students. The enrollment is pretty low right now: we were told there are only six kids in her class, three returning (so she has two familiar faces with her right now). The other three kids are TBD. On the first day of school, it was just the three kids from last year’s 3K class, so a tiny group.

I picked her up at around 5 as I always do. Kaia was pretty quiet. She walked and willingy held my hand, but as per usual, she didn’t really want to talk much. She demanded treats (she got two mandarins). And on the way home, I had this prediction in my head that she’d probably have a difficult evening. And I was exactly right.

Dinner was painful. She whined and whinged through the entire meal. She expressed she didn’t understand why some kids were no longer in her class or school anymore (some had left for other, closer schools; others were moving up to kindergarten at elementary schools). She didn’t know why she wasn’t in her same classroom with the same teachers as last year (different class, higher level up, so different teachers). We tried to explain to her, but to no avail. She cried and was really upset. Her shower wasn’t any better; she cried almost the whole way through it. Drying her off, applying lotion, and blow drying her hair felt like an Olympic feat. I was mentally exhausted by the end of it. Before it was time for Chris to read to her and put her to bed, I just held her for a little bit. My poor, sweet baby: she’s just so confused about all these things all at the same time.

I figured it would take time to adjust to all the changes. This is a lot to handle for her age — so many changes all at once, and so many big feelings for such little people. But that’s what getting older is all about: handling lots of change all the time and figuring out how to manage your emotions all at the same time. People my age and older are still trying to manage all that without losing their crap.

Kaia tries to invade our bed and bring all her faves with her

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Co-sleeping is a practice that is not embraced or encouraged in the West, but in the East, it’s quite common for parents to share their beds with their kids as old as 10 to 12 years old depending on the country and region. Kaia is like any other child: she wants to feel safe and loved, and she feels that way when she is close to her parents. So it’s been a mini struggle on and off since she turned 1 to get her to sleep in her own crib, then bed. She’s now sleeping on her own with a little fighting here and there, but for the most part, she sleeps almost the entire night in her own floor bed. Sometime between 5-7am, she will wander over to our bed. And along with her, she will drag her favorite stuffed animal(s) of the moment, a random book, a blanket, her waterproof blanket (that we keep under her in case she wets the bed).

Although I do want her to sleep on her own, I would be lying if I said that I did not think this was cute, or if I said I genuinely did not like it. It’s her way of showing that she needs us, that she wants to be close to us, and who can fault that in a young child of her age? When it’s between 6-7am, I always like it when she comes over with all her stuff, taps my back, face, or head, and says, “Mama! Mama! I wanna come!” And then I help her onto the bed, under our covers, and she gets in. Then, if I don’t wrap my arms around her, she demands, “Mama, cuddle! Cuddle!” And then I hold her, and she drifts off into a little sleep before it’s time to start our day.

“Keep her out of my bed,” Chris always warns before he falls asleep for the night. For the most part, we do. But sometimes, I don’t really mind it when she comes earlier than 6am. It’s a way to show she loves us and needs us. And I’ll savor these sweet moments as long as I can.

Kaia’s first day of preschool, and reflections on my child’s developing humor

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Today is Kaia’s first official day of Pre-K, aka 4K, aka preschool, aka the year before official, formal schooling begins for her. We’ve been really fortunate to live in New York City in a time when Universal Pre-K (UPK) has not only been offered, but also because we were lucky enough to get a spot for both 3K and 4K, and at a Chinese immersion school that offers 3.5 fresh meals cooked onsite every day. While she dawdled with breakfast this morning, Kaia was eager to start the day and get into her promised first-day-of-school outfit: her much awaited Ms. Rachel dress, complete with a polka-dotted tutu that Chris got her months ago; I decided that today would be a good momentous occasion to finally let her wear it. Plus, it would likely fit her better at this point since we sized up. We took first-day-of-school photos with her updated letter board from birth, and Chris took her down to Chinatown for her first day in class with Ms. Vicky, her new teacher. Her new Chinese teacher is still to be confirmed.

It’s always a bit bittersweet, these milestone moments in her life. Every day is a gift watching her grow, develop, learn new things, find her likes and dislikes, and become her own person with her own unique personality and quirks. But every day that she gets older and reaches these moments, I know that she’s moving farther and farther away from me. Because that is ultimately the goal of “successful” parenting: getting your child to grow into an independent, self-sufficient adult who no longer “needs” you to survive. Every now and then, I go through old photos and videos on my phone or in our Google Photos, and I re-watch videos of her from a few months ago, a year, two years, three years ago.. even from the minute she was first born. It’s crazy to see how much she’s developed in every single way: her speech development, the clarity of her words in two (sometimes three – Cantonese!) languages; how her limbs have gotten so much longer, how the sweet baby fat on her cheeks, arms, legs, and all her joints has been slowly dissipating. I get nostalgic. Yes, those days were tougher, but my heart was always so full of love and a deep sense of gratitude that I was lucky enough to not only become a mother, but also become a mama to this very cheeky and sweet Kaia Pookie.

A friend of mine who has two kids told me that the one thing she regretted not doing more of with both kids was taking more videos. She says most people focus on photos because they’re easier (and they take less space!), but she said she always loved the sounds her babies made, and also being able to see how their sounds progressed into babble into words and then finally into sentences. So because of what she said, I probably still, to this day, take more videos than I should (if only Google Photos storage was free….) because I hate to think I could actually forget one of these cute or hilarious moments with my Kaia. Some of my absolute favorite videos of her are when she’s simply busting out laughing over something that I don’t quite understand, but because I just adore the sound of her laughter so much, I go along with it. There was a video when I kept encouraging her to “Biiiite. Chew, chew!” And she’d laugh hysterically every time I said “bite,” and then repeat it after me with her high-pitched laugh. Another video that I love is when I did a version of “peek-a-boo” and keep my back towards her. Holding her Habbi Habbi language wand, I’d jump up and say, Haaaabbiiiiiii, HABBI!” And when I’d say the second “Habbi,” I’d jump around to face her with the wand, and she’d crack up almost nonstop; she even slapped her hands together and on the bed multiple times.

I thought about Kaia’s early humor, her “peek-a-boo” excitement, her imitations, her “tricks” on us, and when she now tries to hide things in her one of her palms and wants us to guess which palm has the secret object, all while I was reading this place on “Why Are Kids So Funny?” in The New Yorker this week. The article mentions how babies often wait a month or two to smile, then a couple more to start laughing, “but once the humor gets going, it achieves what A.I. researchers might call a ‘fast takeoff.'” Human beings are distinctive for many reasons, but maybe “the speed with which children embrace humor suggests that it, too, is fundamental to human nature. We laugh, therefore we are.” Humor “allows human beings to find their way into their own humanity and into the human community.” I was reminded of just days ago when at dinner time, Kaia noticed that my mom calls my dad “Cal,” short for “Calvin.” When my mom calls him “Cal,” many people’s ears will register this as “cow” because of her accent, and so Kaia thought this was so funny that she started saying, “Cow, mooo! Cow, cow, go home, cow!” I am not quite sure where the “go home!” part came from, but the “Cal sounds like cow” connection cracked me up. And she said it so many times I lost count. My mom found this funny, while my dad didn’t quite get it and carried on as though he didn’t hear anything.

I love watching my child laugh and be funny, and trying to elicit our own smiles and laughter. I love watching her find her way into her own personality, her own humanity, and finding her way with the people around her. Watching her experience life and grow has definitely made me a better, more empathetic person. It’s honestly hard for me to even imagine life without this little cheeky bubba of mine. And with her, there is most definitely far more humor in my own life, our shared life.

Clams, “bivalves,” smaller portions, and the love language of food in Asian families

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During our last two nights in San Francisco, I purposely didn’t make any plans because I figured we should spend those meals with my parents. After the fiasco of the previous Saturday lunch in the Sunset when my dad was scrolling his phone most of the time, my mom joining him and started scrolling her phone, their complaining that the food was taking too long (as they always do when it’s a place I pick), and then my mom refusing to pose for a quick selfie Chris wanted to take (Chris said this was the true cherry on top), neither Chris nor I wanted another meal out with them. They are most comfortable in their own home for them to come and go as they wish, for my dad to leave the table the second he’s done, for my mom to fuss about every five minutes on something unimportant. When we got back to the house on Friday late afternoon and my mom suggested we eat dinner out at a specific (and unnamed because she rarely knows the names of any place) restaurant, multiple times I declined and said we’d just order out. I suggested a neighborhood pizza spot, Gaspare’s, where we could order online and pick up, and so we did that. We got a pizza for us (half mushroom/sausage, half mushroom/pesto), and an order of clams and linguine for Pookster.

I didn’t think much of getting a separate order for Kaia since we know she’s not really into pizza, but I didn’t think that my parents would be so impressed that she likes bivalves. They marveled over her pulling out each individual clam from the shell and shoving it into her mouth. She also picked at the endless little clams that were dotted throughout the pasta between bites of the linguine noodles. And my mom couldn’t believe someone so young was into clams (while she also freaked out in the beginning, insisting that the clam shells could be dangerous with potentially sharp edges). In the process of ordering the clams with linguine, I had also forgotten my dad loves clams, so he also enjoyed this dish while pretend-fighting with Kaia to eat some of her clams.

My parents clearly made a mental note about Kaia and her love of mollusks, so when they ordered takeout tonight from a local Cantonese spot, they ordered one fish dish and one scallop dish. I was surprised when they unveiled the food to see that the scallops were actually presented directly on their shells, and under a bed of vermicelli noodles seasoned with a generous amount of garlic and scallions. Unfortunately, Kaia is not as interested in scallops, but they wouldn’t have known that when they chose this food. In the end, she mostly ate the noodles that were elegantly placed on top of the scallop shells. While the flavor of the dish was very good, I was a bit disappointed with how teeny tiny the scallops were. I didn’t want to say anything to make it seem like I was critical, but overall, the quantity of scallops and the size were a true letdown.

The next day, my dad asked me how much we paid for the clams and linguine. When I told him, he exclaimed what good value it was because that scallop dish he got was four dollars less, but had barely any food to eat. I always smile a little to myself every time my dad inadvertently compliments me (or anyone, really) because compliments do not come naturally to him. He is 100 times more likely to poo poo on anything than to praise.

One thing I noticed they did differently during this visit is that not only was there far less food in the fridge (though somehow, there were over a hundred eggs in the fridge, for reasons I have zero visibility into…), but they also ordered far less food for our meals together, which meant they’d have far less food left over. I was really happy about this. No one enjoys eating leftovers for days on end, and given it’s just the two of them, they really shouldn’t have too much food around, anyway. Maybe it’s my parents finally coming to terms with the fact that they are actually getting older and can’t just keep eating the same or keep storing food forever (though I did have to throw a lot of rotted cantaloupe and plums out because they had way too much fruit they couldn’t get through in time).

My parents and I do not have the best relationship — it’s quite far from it. But I do see and acknowledge the times when they do try. One of the few love languages they both share is food. It’s one of the oldest and most classic ways for Asian parents to show love and affection. I was really touched when I saw the scallops they got for Kaia (even if she didn’t like them). I like that they finally listened to me when I said not to order too much food, or when I insisted that we just eat at home.

I’m grateful that the second weekend at my parents’ place fared much better than the first weekend, and that in general, my dad seemed more engaged with Kaia and talked more, and that my mom seemed a tiny bit less controlling and more willing to relent than the prior weekend. We only see each other once a year, and it always makes me feel better when we end on a positive note.

What changes in ten, twenty-plus years

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I feel like every time I come home to San Francisco, I notice yet another thing that has changed. I hadn’t passed 6th and Geary Blvd in ages, and I was shocked while walking along Geary yesterday to see that the entire area that used to be the Ashley & McMullen family owned funeral home was not only demolished, but completely replaced by a multi-story condominium building. There’s no way this happened in just the last year, and I guess I hadn’t passed this part of Geary to notice it. I don’t know why that felt so strange to me, though; condos replace older buildings all the time everywhere, especially places like San Francisco that have a housing shortage. Both my grandma and my uncle had their funerals at this funeral home, in 1995 and then in 2000.

The Alexandria theater at 18th and Geary is still abandoned and looking worn down, a pigeon-poop filled home that is blocked off to humans by aggressive gating. Gaspare’s, the neighborhood Italian American restaurant in the Richmond, still seems to be going strong; we ended up getting takeout pizza and clams with linguine from there on Friday night for family dinner at home. B. Patisserie, a popular (and at that time, very innovative) bakery run by a Chinese American female pastry chef that opened in 2012, is not only humming along in the same location on California at Divisadero, but they have even opened a second location in the heart of downtown now. We went there yesterday and enjoyed some pastries and coffee before walking to Japantown. While I was there, I thought about the week and a half I spent at home in November 2014 because of my dad’s scheduled bypass surgery. His hospital was walking distance from the bakery cafe, so I remember meeting my friend there for lunch one day, and also going there on my own a separate time to decompress a little.

On Friday, I took Kaia to the South Park playground to play while I caught up with an old friend there who drove out to meet us. She was meeting Kaia and also seeing me as a mother for the very first time. It was funny to be in that area after so long, as the last time I remember being in South Park, it was summer 2003, when I had a full-time summer writing internship at WireTap Magazine, a now defunct youth magazine that was owned by the Independent Media Institute (which also used to own Mother Jones). Over twenty years ago, I was an aspiring writer in high school, and today, I am living across the country and am a mother. The play structure had completely changed in the children’s play area, yet the park and surrounding buildings all felt the same. Even some of the fancy cafes that were there twenty years ago still remain today, like Caffe Centro.

People always say things like, “If these walls could talk….” The truth is that there are memories that are conjured every time you walk through old hallways, streets, and neighborhoods that you had frequented, especially when you call the city or town your childhood home. The memories are always a mix of happy, sad, infuriating, and even indifferent, but they are ultimately what colored our lives at a given point in time. Because Kaia is with me, I can see the city through her eyes now. On this trip alone, I’ve lost count of the number of neighborhoods we’ve taken her to and playgrounds/play areas where we’ve played: the Richmond, the Bay Area Discovery Museum in Sausalito, Chinatown, North Beach, South Beach, downtown/the Ferry Building area, the Tenderloin, Noe Valley, the Fillmore. I love watching her run around and play on these local playgrounds. Of course, they are not the same as the playgrounds and structures I played on as a kid, as all of them have been redone regardless of the neighborhood. But when I asked her if she likes San Francisco and being here, she vigorously nodded, “yes.” And that made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.