Photos with Father Christmas is not the same as photos with Santa Claus

Maybe some of you were wondering why I only included a photo of Seth on Santa's lap yesterday (at least my parents were thinking this), but it was too choice not to leave it to it's own post as this illustrates so well a part of British culture that does not compute in America....well at least not where I'm from.  

Exhibit A:

Annual picture with Santa fail.
This is as close as she would get, and I don't think I need to tell you how she felt about it.
Call me a bad mom, but I was totally fine with having Santa hold her and getting that quintessential crying with Santa photo, but British Santas frown on this and will not take screaming children.
What?!  Who does not own a photo with Santa where at least one sibling is crying?  Anyone?

Seth never went through the "scared of Santa" phase which I was always kind of proud of since all of our photos, he's totally cool about it.

Who, this guy?  We go way back.

I figured Avery wouldn't be as willing since she's always been a mama's girl, but she surprised me her first Christmas.

Let's take a little trip down memory lane and check out the difference between Photos with Santa in the US and the UK.  I only did one or the other each year because I am not a glutton for punishment.

Texas 2010 - Seth at 6 months
I don't even think they had a sit with Santa option this year in Edinburgh.

Texas 2011: Seth at 18 months (and photo credit to Memorial City Photographers).
I thought he might cry this year because all of his cousins screamed for their 18 month Santa photo.
Um no.  This kid loves Santa. And I'm pretty sure that is actually Santa Claus - I mean look at him.
No wonder Seth didn't cry! Best.Santa.Ever.

Now we knew getting to Houston on Christmas Eve wouldn't give us enough time to make it for Avery to have her first Santa Photo with Santa himself, but we settled for Father Christmas in Edinburgh.

Edinburgh 2012: Seth 2.5, Avery 9 months
She looks concerned, but she was actually totally fine and was just pointing out the twinkly lights.
Main difference between Edinburgh sit with Santa and US...where do I even begin?!  It's literally a gold chair under an arch covered in fake greenery and lights sitting in an open area in a mall.  That's it.  No photographer trying to nickel and dime you, no back drop blocking the pink fluorescent store lights in the background, and most obviously no Santa hat - what?  Is he supposed to look like a festive Jawa?
And actually I'm fine with all that because no fuss equals no queue line!
.

I noticed this year as Christmas drew nearer that Santa's photo area had been revamped.  I wondered how this would affect the line and if that meant we would now have to pay a photographer to photograph our children.  Wait.  What? Even hearing that somebody could force you to pay someone else to take a photo of your child with Santa instead of allowing you to just do it yourself  for free sounds so wrong - I can't imagine that happening here (at least not in Scotland...maybe in London).  But my fears were assuaged when we showed up with the kids dressed up and nary a photographer or line was to be seen.  If only my daughter would have cooperated.  Or Santa had only just held her long enough for me to snap one shot.

And we've gotta end with this photo again because her face is so classic.
Edinburgh 2013: Seth 3.5 seriously contemplating what he'd like for Christmas,
Avery 21 months and
not.interested.

 

{12 Days of Christmas Traditions} Day Nine: Just Kidding

Sorry to leave you hanging by not posting how we do Santa like I said I would (like you even remember I promised this!), but hosting Christmas at your house is a big job!  I am just now recovered! But seriously, I never realized how much work it is for Christmas Day to happen when it's at your house.  It was fun, and not having jet lag was a major bonus, but whew!  I appreciate my mom and mom-in-law so much more now.  They make it look effortless!  Next year I plan on re-posting my 8 days and actually including the last 4. We'll call this a New Year's Resolution though that will probably kill it dead right there.

I've been thinking about the blog lately and how I abandon it every so often.  I love writing. I love how it's a great way to look back on our lives, but I don't want it to turn into: and then we did this, and then we did that, and then and then, etc etc BORING.  I hate writing like that more than I dislike reading stuff like that.  This however means that I must have a muse and there just hasn't been one.

Taylor has encouraged me that writing leads to more writing (and he should know since he's currently writing a book) and to just go for it; if I wait for a muse every time, then I'll never be consistent.

I also realized I'm not doing a great job of capturing what it's like to live as an American in Scotland, and as our time here comes closer and closer to an end, I know I'll regret it if I don't.  Seth will remember a little bit of his childhood here, but Avery probably won't (even though she is our true Scot), so I want them to be able to come back here and see a glimpse of what it was like. And hopefully this will give my friends back home some insight into why I'll be a homebody who wears wellies even on sunny days and suggests we walk to inappropriate places (think the grocery store or the park not actual inappropriate places because Houston is not what you would call a "walkable" city) when I move back. Who complains that Downton Abbey is on during the wrong season and how the season finale shouldn't just be the last episode, but should air on Christmas Day effectively ruining the most wonderful time of the year. Who calls her stroller "a buggy," shopping cart "a trolley," lollipops "lollies," and other vernacular I've picked up without realizing it.  Who never answers her mobile phone (and calls it a "mo-bye-ul" phone). And whose kids do not know how to swim (this will be the first issue we'll deal with upon our return!).

As much as moving here provided many culture stressors, moving back may prove to be as difficult.

Point #1: Every time we leave the house, my children assume, "we're walking, right?" and proceed to whine and beg on the rare occasion I say we're going in the car because it's too far to walk.  Seth's favorite mantra these days is, "I super do not like our house.  I want to go back to Texas." (I'm sure this has nothing to do with the fact that it's either his birthday or Christmas every time we go to Texas) So the other day when he said this, I told him, "in Houston, you never walk, you always have to ride in the car and they don't even have double decker buses. " He just stared at me, dumbfounded.

Point #2: I can count on one hand how many times my children have gone on trips to the "big" grocery store with me.  I will definitely be looking into online grocery ordering when I get back because wow - could I ever go back to shopping myself?  I don't think so.

Point #3: There is no "rat race" here.  Kids are signed up for a million activities by the time they're 3 in America.  In the UK, parents take advantage of all of the free stuff to do around the city (granted there are way more free things to do here) - music classes, playgroups, the National Museum of Scotland to name a few. And they don't even worry about how this might setback their future Olympic hopes. (This might also explain the slight discrepancy between the US and the UK's medal counts...just a theory).

Point #4: No one ever calls me.  My friends and I make plans when we see each other (at all of the free events around the city), or email,  or shout plans out window of our flat down to friends in the garden because I share a garden with most of my friends), or on the sidewalk when we see each other in town, and as a last resort text.  I love not being a slave to my phone, but in Houston more people will need access to me.

So if you're interested in what it's like to live in Scotland, check back!

And here are some Christmas photos to catch up:

 When he's older, I'm sure he'll love that I put him in a longall at 3 - even my mom gave me a hard time about it. :)
But he LOVED it because it has Buddy the Elf on it!

Christmas Eve service

Avery right after opening her ornament on Christmas Eve; I think she liked it!

Seth opening his Chrismtas Eve jammies

Patiently waiting to go in the living room on Christmas morning

Sister was super excited about her new toothbrush.
Wish she was this excited when it's actually time to brush her teeth!

Fun car from Mia and Popsie

I love Seth's face in this one.  Diapers?!
And no, we didn't get him diapers, read here if you're confused.

Sister means business - she was so funny opening her presents Christmas morning - much less enthusiasm compared to Christmas Eve!
And when she was all done, she'd say, "prisints?" I think she mostly preferred unwrapping though this particular toy makes a debut all over our flat at least once a day, so I think it was a hit.

This was by far the hit of the morning as we suspected
(and also why we gave it to him, not Santa Claus!)

She liked my Christmas present too.
What can I say, the girl loves shoes!

Love these guys!

That time I had my most embarrassing moment...in front of the QUEEN OF ENGLAND

Really.  I'm not talking in front of a tabloid or with the BBC in the background, but in the flesh.  I went to church with the Queen of England last Sunday.  And this was no Houston mega-church where there were thousands of people plus me and her.  They don't do those kinds of churches here.  This was my little family of 4, plus my mom-in-law, sis-in-law, 3 nieces and about 91 other people including the Queen in a lovely pale pink dress and matching hat in a country parish church.

Since Susannah's (my sil) visit last summer, we'd been dreaming about visiting Balmoral and Dunnottar Castles. Last year it didn't work because she came in August and Balmoral Castle is closed to the public at that time due to the Queen's annual Scottish holiday.  Why she doesn't want to spend it with thousands of her closest tourists milling around outside her house, I have no idea.  

So this year she (Susannah, not the Queen) came in July, and we were determined to make it happen.  We found a hotel between the two castles and made our itinerary including attending a church. 

During our summer outreach in Edinburgh, one of our college students, the daughter of the pastor of a church close to where we were going to be staying, told us to check out her father’s church casually mentioning that it also happens to be the church the Queen attends whilst staying at Balmoral Castle.  We were thrilled to hear of an evangelical church in the area as it's very hit or miss in Scotland and were maybe a tad star-struck at the idea of attending the Queen's church, so we put it on the itinerary not expecting her to be there since her annual stay at Balmoral begins August 1st.

We had a great day on Saturday visiting the town of Stonehaven where Dunnottar Castle is perched on some sea cliffs over looking the ocean.  It has been an unusually hot and dry summer (by hot I mean low 70s), and Saturday was one of those perfect days.  The castle surroundings were breathtaking and were accompanied by the sounds of a bagpiper piping his tune by the entrance.  And besides an unruly 3 year old (ahem, Seth), it was a fun visit.  We finished the day off with a trip to Stonehaven's outdoor heated pool and the kids, Taylor, and Susannah braved the water while Susan and I watched (it was way too cold for me even with heated water and 70 degree weather!  Susannah commented that it was like swimming in Houston in January:)). I marveled at the hearty bikini clad Scots as they soaked up the "hot" summer day while I shivered under Avery's Minnie Mouse towel.

Dunnottar Castle

Dunnottar Castle

Dunnottar Castle

Stonehaven Pool

Stonehaven Pool

Stonehaven Park

When we returned to the hotel, news that the Queen had already arrived in Scotland caused us to wonder if she'd be in attendance at church the next morning.  We were excited at the prospect, but we're betting the likelihood was small.

It was a rainy, dreary Sunday, and as we walked through mud puddles up to the church steps,  four serious looking people barring the entrance came into view...our first hint the Queen would be there. They asked us if we were members, and we sheepishly said no afraid they might turn us away.  After examining my diaper bag, telling us photography was prohibited inside the church, and asking us to turn off our cell phones, we felt pretty sure she'd be there.  We complied and nervously piled into the church with our brood of 5 children ages 7 and under.

I always get anxious when we visit country churches in Scotland because they are rarely big enough to have a nursery for children.  We filed into two pews on the left back side of the church, and I began scouring the bulletin for notice of child care and came up empty.  Let's just say I should have asked someone! I prayed holy slumber over my two and passed a Cliff bar to Caroline, my three year old niece, who was already making sounds about being hungry for lunch.  We situated ourselves in the pew as strategically as possible, and I unloaded my arsenal of books and snacks for my two in hopes they'd keep quiet and then finally allowed myself to scan the crowd.  The congregation was a buzz no doubt doing the same as me.  Snippets of whispers floated around us.  Do you see her?  What is she wearing? And shhhsh! as parents tried to keep young children quiet.

From our vantage point we could see most of the pews pretty well though we hadn't yet spotted the Queen.  I could hear the people in front of me whispering that they could see her as they craned their necks towards the nave to the right of us where she was apparently sitting and wearing pink.  I couldn't spend too much time trying to spot her as Avery took that opportunity to join the chatter except 16 month olds don't really have church volume meters.  I handed her to Taylor who was sitting on the outside of the row, so he could make a quick exit if necessary.  I was on the inside with Seth on my right, and my 5 year old niece, Lizzie, sat between Seth and Taylor.  I contemplated moving next to Taylor with Seth, so I could leave easily too if needed, but Seth was being really quiet, focused on his Cars book, so I took my chances.

Big Mistake.

After about the first hymn, Taylor had moved with Avery to the back of the church so he could stand and sway to keep her quiet.  She'd put her head down on his shoulder and suck her thumb until every time a new hymn played and she was jarred back to an upright position and would start making noise again.  During the first prayer, they had to bow out completely because it was obvious "holy slumber" was not to be achieved.  I turned my attention back to Seth.  Lizzie had taken advantage of the extra pew space and spread out all of her Color Wonder pages.  Seth quickly spotted one with Mickey Mouse on it breaking the silent reverie his book had been providing.  I cringed as he switched places with her in order to grab it, but thankfully Susannah saw it coming and gathered up all of the papers before he could make a fuss.  Lizzie sat with streaming tears down her face, Caroline was starting to ask for food again, and Seth was now prostrate on the pew.  I dug hopefully for his pacifier (don't judge until you've been in a church service with your 3 year old and the Queen of England) thinking maybe he'd just fall asleep, but he refused it.  And the next thing I knew, he had escaped the pew and was running full speed toward the back of the church and yes, the pastor had just begun preaching, so all was completely silent besides the pastor's soft voice and my 3 year old's top sider's slapping the stone floor.  As quickly as I could, I scooched around Lizzie in the narrow pew, freed myself into the isle, and hoofed it to the back of the church as lady-like as I could in my dress and flip flops trying to make as little noise as possible.  I reach the back of the church just as Seth ducks under the back pew and starts crawling under the pews back toward the front of the church. Needless to say I am beyond horrified at this point and my adrenaline is racing.  I see him in the gap between two pews, stick my arm in the space, and in one motion swing him up into my arms.  I don't recall if either of us said anything at this point because I blacked out.

Not really, but I erased all of the details out of my mind because do I really need to explain myself?

We marched out the back doors, and I breathed a sigh of relief as the tall wooden doors swung closed behind us.  My relief was short lived as I tried to open the even larger wooden front doors to get out of the church to no avail.  I knew I couldn't put Seth down in case he tried to escape back into the service and 3 year old boys are heavy!  So here I am in a 6X6 foot vestibule with quiet preaching and the Queen of England on one side, freedom on the other and myself stuck in the middle with a 3 year old who also has trouble with volume control.  I shushed him and tried to figure out the medieval looking door with its plethora of iron locks. And I just couldn't do it.  I then panicked as I pictured the Queen having a processional after the service which would end up with us face to face in the vestibule where she could personally give me a talking to for my child's misbehavior.  It must have been at that point that desperation took over and I started to make too much noise trying to open the door because one of the deacons quickly came to my rescue freeing the door (and more importantly us) to the outside world. He kindly told me about the nursery around the back of the church.  I stifled the urge to scream, information that would have been helpful BEFORE THE SERVICE STARTED, but not being one to make a scene unless my 3 year old forces me to, I must have just smiled and nodded and then sprinted to the alleged nursery.

After successfully depositing Seth in the nursery where I met up with Taylor, we were let back into the service for the final hymn.  I breathed a sigh of relief and then the heavens opened up and there was the Queen.  OK not really, but now that I was at the end of the pew, she was perfectly in my line of vision.  I was so excited to see her and then it dawned on me that she had the perfect view of Seth's little escapade.  Great - my chastisement might happen after all.

I got over my embarrassment and tried to enter into the last bit of worship before the benediction where the pastor prayed for Queen Elizabeth and Prince George, and then we ended with "God Save the Queen" to which Susannah and I sang "My Country Tis of Thee" instead because hey, we're American.

Later on that day at the Balmoral Castle cafe over an ice cream cone, Susan asked Seth what he thought about running away during church.  He thought to himself for a minute and then solemnly declared, "it wasn't a good idea."

Amen brother!

Balmoral Castle

Lizzie, Me, Susannah. and Lillian in the Balmoral Castle garden

Cousins in front of the River Dee outside of Balmoral Castle

Me, Susan, and Tay outside of  Balmoral Castle

God Save the Queen!

Multitasking

I'm back, but by now I'm sure you know not to get worried when I am silent for weeks on end.

But y'all I was compelled to type because of a discovery that has just made my life in Scotland so much brighter. And with it getting dark here by 4 pm, I'm in dire need.

I found canned crescent rolls in my local Tesco and I am beside myself.

Seriously.  You don't appreciate canned bread until you move to Scotland, mention Pilsbury, and they have no idea what you're talking about.  Or maybe I have just assumed they didn't carry it like other staples (corn tortillas, chopped green chiles, jalapenos, Bisquick etc) and just now noticed them the first time.  Now I can actually make Pizza Roll-ups or Easy Pizza.  See, even though it is 2:17 pm and the sun is starting to set, I can deal.

On to other important things:

1. I've been meal planning for the rest of this week and next while the kids are napping and I have one more day to fill: next Thursday.  You are probably now thinking to yourself, isn't that Thanksgiving?  Isn't she obviously preparing a spectacular Thanksgiving meal for her family?  And the answer would be no because we are celebrating Thanksgiving on Saturday - heresy I know, but when you're celebrating a holiday that basically stems from the fact that you're not living in Britain anymore and you currently live in Britain, no one is too bothered by what day you celebrate it.  So back to my dilemma, I need a meal for Thursday.  Here is my criteria: quick, easy, makes enough to have leftovers the next day, not chicken, little to no handling of raw meat required - help me.  Thanks and gig 'em (like how I associate myself with Texas A&M only after an epic football victory?  Call me two percenter)

2. Elizabeth is having a Thanksgiving Linky Party, so here is my scalloped potato recipe I mentioned last Thanksgiving post. I dislike mashed potatoes, so this was my substitute, and it was a huge hit.

Scalloped Potatoes
recipe adapted from my mom-in-law
*warning: this recipe is not exact and I'm using the "metric" system.  I'll do my best to convert it for you

(insert laughter here if you know me well)

--6 jacket potatoes or Maris Pipers (not sure what the American equivalent would be off of the top of my head - not Idaho or new potatoes...sorry that isn't very helpful, but maybe Yukon gold or something similar?)
--300 mL double cream though I don't use all of it (I think I'd use about 8 - 10 oz of half and half  or heavy cream or a combo of both (is there something in between?) if I was in America)
--250 g cheddar (2 cups)
--salt and pepper
--butter

1. Wash your potatoes - hopefully that is obvious, but just in case...
2. Thinly slice them (I keep the skin on)
3. Spray baking dish (9X13?)
4. Layer potatoes, sprinkle salt and pepper (optional: my mom-in-law also adds nutmeg at this stage), dot with butter, sprinkle cheese
5. Repeat layering till dish is full (ending with the cheese)
6. Pour cream over top
7. Cover with foil and bake at 400 degrees F/200 degrees C for 45 min
8. Take off foil and bake for 15 more minutes or until golden and bubbly


3. Embracing the Camera with Emily today:

Seth and I are matchy-matchy today not on purpose (though this secretly delights me) but due to the fact that I'm ridiculously behind on laundry (as evidenced by the background of the photo).

And this photo so that Avery doesn't feel left out and to show  my laundry progress.
#Baby steps.

Cheers!

Limoncello Trifle

To illustrate yesterday's post on pudding confusion, one real life example of this happened with our dear friends Jared and Jane.  They are a native Scottish couple who have "adopted" us.  I work closely with women at the church Jared pastors.  We have been so blessed by  our relationship with their personal and church family.

At their son Ian's Cricket match

Go Ian!

How cute are they by the way?  I could just eat them up with a spoon!

Coolest school clubhouse ever

Seth is sopping wet from crawling around in the puddles

Jane and Jared have the love language of gift giving, and we have been  grateful benefactors of their generosity.  From stuffed animals and clothing for Seth, to cell phones and coffee grinders for us, possibly our favorite gift from them has been a "pudding" recipe.

We had been trying to get together for weeks but were having difficulty in aligning our schedules.  Jared suggested they just stop by our house after Seth had gone to bed and if we'd provide the tea and coffee, they'd bring the pudding.  We'd lived long enough in Scotland that weren't expecting jello pudding, but we weren't quite sure as to what they would bring.  

And oh were we glad when we tasted what they brought.  Jane had made us a Limoncello Trifle, and we were sold the minute we tasted it.  Its citrus-y flavor was my kind of dessert, and Taylor loves anything custard-y so Limoncello Trifle was a hit!  They graciously offered to pass on the recipe.  Now, I feel I can make proper "pudding."  And you can too if you're interested.  It's pretty, looks and tastes like you spent hours in the kitchen, but it's easy to make.  That is if you can find all of the ingredients and have a conversion chart :)

Limoncello Trifle

3 oranges

75 ml limoncello

100g sponge fingers

250g mascarpone

2 heaping Tbsp icing sugar (powdered sugar)

100 ml semi-skimmed milk (2%)

1 lemon

1 tsp vanilla

A punnet of raspberries (a plastic container of raspberries)

1-100g bar of dark chocolate, shaved

1. Juice oranges into serving dish.  

I used a pie dish to give you an idea of about how big it should be.

2. Stir in limoncello.

I don't have a photo of me stirring it in because, well, I forgot it completely until I was further along in the process.  So if you're scatterbrained like me, it's apparently not a problem if you add it after step 3 because that is when I did.  Details, details.

3. Cover base of dish with sponge fingers.

(3 1/2. Add limoncello if you forgot to earlier)

4. In a separate bowl, mix cheese, sugar, and milk.  

5. Add finely grated lemon zest and juice from half of the lemon.  (Then give the other half to your one year old who is obsessed with lemon and doesn't even flinch while eagerly devouring it rind and all.)

5. (You see how I forgot the limoncello??)

6. Whisk in vanilla.

7. Spread mixture over fingers (the sponge fingers not your own).

8. Place raspberries on top and add grated chocolate.

No chocolate on this one - thought it was too pretty without it.

9. Chill in fridge.

Enjoy!

Pudding Confusion

As I have mentioned before, we are learning English in our new country.  Here are some food related words that can potentially cause a considerable amount of trouble for the uninformed:

tea

pudding

jelly

I know, right?  How can you possibly get into trouble with these words? I am glad you asked.

Disclaimer: the following scenarios are not based on real people we know and are purely made up and hypothetical.

Scenario #1: Tea

{via}
.

You are asked to tea by a Scottish family.  

"How British!" you think delightedly to yourself.  You eagerly accept as jumping right into the incessantly tea drinking culture is part of the reason you're here is it not?

"What time should I come?" you ask.

{Insert Scottish accent here}"How about half 6 (equals "half past 6" to the un-anglicised)," Angus and Shona reply.

Thinking how this will interfere with your rigidly scheduled dinner time for your own family, you hesitantly accept deciding you will just have to eat a little earlier tonight.  Tea and biscuits will be a very nice end to your meal.  You even forgo making dessert, your favorite course.

You and your family show up to the MacKay's house well fed and ready for some tea and biscuits when Shona shows you to the dining room where the table is spread for a full Scottish meal of steak pie, roasted carrots, and boiled potatoes.  There are even soft cheese covered oat cakes topped with smoke salmon for an appetizer.  You look over at your spouse with a weak smile and say a quick prayer to the Lord thanking him that your son's vocabulary is limited to "mama," "dada, "dog," "hi," and "no" not, "Moooom, we just ate dinner.  I'm too stuffed to eat again!"   

So you do the polite thing and eat the delicious if second meal with your new friends, and note to self: "Tea =dinner if scheduled during dinner time. Check."

Scenario #2: Pudding

{via}

You've just finished your "tea" at aforementioned friends' home and they offer you pudding.  Relieved that it isn't a tempting dessert because you're stuffed to the gills, you politely decline.  Thinking to yourself, "Shona sure looks like she has it all together; I'm glad I'm not the only one who looks to J.E.L.L.O. when life gets too busy. It's great to know that it's acceptable to do that for guests and not just family here in Scotland.  I'm really beginning to like this place!  It's so laid back."

Shona returns from the kitchen with the most delicious looking dessert.  Your mouth waters at the sight of it and wonder when the pudding is coming out and wait to be asked for a piece of that cake she just proffered.  The invitation is never extended.  You watch forlornly as the MacKay's youngest child, Finlay, asks for a second helping of the "sticky toffee pudding" and Shona scrapes up the last of the gooey cake and puts it on his plate. Trying to console yourself, you remember the fact that you ate dinner twice and can't afford pudding on top of that.

{Sticky Toffee Pudding via}

You look around the table as everyone, including your delighted one year old, is enjoying the last morsels of pudding and note to self: "don't decline pudding. Ever."

Scenario #3: Jelly

{via}

After the secret second dinner and pudding enjoyed by most, your family is so tired and full and is invited to stay the night to avoid having to wake up the sleeping baby who went down after pudding.  Waking him up to ride the bus back to your own flat seems like a terrible idea, so you accept.

The next morning you wake up and are offered tea or coffee and toast to go along with breakfast.  You agree to coffee and toast.  You are American after all.  You managed your tea quota after "tea" the night before.

When asked what you would like on your toast, you reply, "jelly would be lovely thank you."  You are pleased with yourself that you threw in a "lovely", and wait for your toast.  Your coffee is delivered to you.  It's not quite as black as you would have made it, but coffee made by someone else is fine by you.  You sip it and wonder what kind of jelly will be offered.  Angus brings in a nifty little toast holder that holds the toast triangles upright and places it in the middle of the table. As you reminisce back to elementary school when you envied the kid sitting next to you with his triangled PB and J, you help yourself to a piece, butter it, and then notice no jelly.  You wait a little longer, stomach growling a bit, but not wanting to be rude, you wait.  You wait a little longer.  

Then it dawns on you that maybe you were misunderstood, so you begin to eat your toast.  Angus gives you a sidelong glance, but when you catch his gaze, he just smiles at you.  You start to wonder what happened to Shona, and just as you finish the last bite of your third buttered piece of toast, she brings out some Jello - we're talking the jiggly kind.

{via}

"So sorry it took me so long to whip this up.  It must be an American tradition to eat jelly on toast.  We prefer jam.  Maybe because it spreads a little easier," Shona smiles.

You try to decide if you should just eat the jello or break it to her that Americans don't eat jelly on toast as you note to self: "jelly equals jello not jam."

Now to be fair the Scots are actually way more schooled in the use of American English and none of these scenarios have actually happened to us, but we have been confused in conversations about tea and so forth and surprised by the wonderful desserts brought out after being told that pudding was the next course.

Tomorrow, I'll fill you in on a real life story of pudding confusion complete with a recipe!