There is a book by Calvin Triilin called "Fatherhood". It's about, well, his experiences of parenting his two girls. There is one piece in the book about how he was from Missouri and he just always assumed that his daughters were Missourians at heart who happened to be growing up in New York City. I think (it's been a long time since I read the book) he said he realized that his kids were real, honest-to-goodness New Yorkers when they would talk about subway directions and alternate routes at a very young age that he didn't even know existed, even though he'd lived in the city for the majority of his adult life.
Today, I realized that I have always kind of thought of my girls as little transplanted Midwesterners. But the following conversation I overheard in the car disabused me of that notion.
Bebe: We're having our class party tomorrow!
Lulu: Wow! You're so lucky!
Bebe: I know! It's gonna be so cool. Hecka cool!
Hecka cool. Dear Lord, I have children who are Californians.
(Also, Bebe said, "Snap!" to some comment of Louisa's, and I laughed for at least 5 minutes. Not only are they Californians, they are already cooler and hipper than I am. Which isn't much of a stretch, I admit. But still. Snap.)