When I write about Holland I have to write about two Hollands. Let me explain:
We probably wouldn’t have named our 6 lb. bundle of joy after the European country of Holland if we hadn’t been living in it. Born in The Hague, on a typical Dutch wet and windy day, in what seems to be only five years ago, this week Holland the daughter started her senior year of high school. Five years ago in real time we did return Holland to Holland for a visit. Her younger sister and her parents got to go along.
The above kind of behavior was probably safer on foot than on bikes anyway.
Dutch Pannekoeken are huge. Both girls took quite a liking to pannekoeken and were impressed that restaurants in Holland had their own extra large plates to serve them on.
Their parents were impressed by just how much pannekoeken two little girls could eat.
In addition to eating large Dutch pancakes, they drank copious amounts of hot chocolate met slagroom (with whipped cream). Quickly they learned to order pretty much everything met slagroom.
Five years later met slagroom and pannekoeken remain the indisputable favorite language acquisitions.
No surprises there.