Until now, I’ve been a miserable failure as a Korean mother. My children have not grown up eating rice and banchan made of organic vegetables grown in my backyard. They do not speak a word of Korean. They are not on the straight and narrow path to becoming doctors or lawyers. Despite the long list of failures to my name, I think I can say that I’ve finally earned my Korean mom chops. How did I manage to accomplish this, you may be wondering?

Was it:

a) By starting my children on piano/violin lessons mere seconds after their umbilical cords were clamped?

b) By exploiting fully taking advantage of the free mini-workforce at my disposal?

c) By laying on my children’s tiny little shoulders the heavy burden of responsibility for each other?

d) By pulling off fantastic feats of frugality?

e) ALL OF THE ABOVE.

I’ve asked the boys to start giving their little sister piano lessons. Each boy is responsible for giving her one thirty minute lesson a week. I figure they’ll hone their own skills, get a little practice in, all while giving their sister free piano lessons!

Bwahahahahahahahahahaha! Look at me: I’m a Korean mom.