Irish Eyes are....confused

Ever try to explain one’s heritage to a five year old? Don’t bother.

“Hey Cameron, today is St. Patrick’s Day.”

“I know.”

“Did you know that you’re part Irish. You’re one eighth Irish.”

“I’m the 8th Irish person?” he asked a little excited.

“No Cameron, one eighth; that means you’re part Irish.”

“I don’t understand. When I’m eight I’m Irish?”

At this point I considered just dropping it, but thought I’d attempt to explain fractions using the prop they always use in school.

“No. No. No. Think of it as a pizza. We’re all pizzas made up of different slices that come from our parents. Like my dad’s mom’s family is from Ireland, so her pizza is all Irish. But my dad’s dad was German, so my dad’s pizza is half German and half Irish. And then my mom’s pizza is all Polish, so then my pizza is ½ Polish, ¼ German and ¼ Irish. So then your pizza has slices from my pizza and Daddy’s pizza. And one slice of all your 8 slices is Irish.”

At this point, I did realize that my explanation was going no where.

He looked at me completely puzzled. “You mean it’s all about pizza?”

“Never mind.”