Contributing Editor Karen Walrond is the author of Chookooloonks, and a new green shopping blog, Emerald Market.

While I'm from the Caribbean, and now live in the Caribbean, I spent the majority of my life in the United States. When I speak, my accent sounds a bit of a hybrid of American and Trini. To complicate matters, my husband is English. So save for the occasional meal that I cook, or music that we listen to, our home is not a particularly Trini home.

But Lord, you wouldn't know that from my daughter.

My daughter Alex, who's only 2, is becoming more Trinidadian than I am. Her accent is pure Trini. Her attitude is pure Trini. When she's missing one of her toys, she'll walk up to me, throw her hands in the air, and say as clear as day: "Where de ball GAWN?" She refers to cookies as "biscuits." She refers to candies as "sweeties." She can sing the refrains of most of the latest calypsos. And the other day, when I told her that we were taking a quick trip to the sister island of Tobago, as God is my witness, she looked me dead in the eye, and used the vernacular for "hanging out":

"Mummy! We're going to lime!"

I have no idea where she's picking most of this up -- as I said, we're not particularly Trinidadian in our home. But I have to admit, when she pulls out her Trini-isms, I can't help but feel a bit of nationalistic pride. And this morning, the emotion overwhelmed me: I scooped her in my arms, smothered her with kisses, and said:

"Alex, my darling, you are Trini to de bone."

[img_assist|fid=310|thumb=0|alt=Coconutgirl]

This post also appears at The Pan Collective.