My new 11 year old daughter is teaching me to make injera. But today as I watched her, I realized she is bringing much more to her new family than just a formula for producing proper injera.

Each time as my daughter has finished cooking the injera, when she has only a little batter left to cook she calls her 9 year old sister. Her sister comes running to make one last smaller piece of injera for herself. The younger girl them claims that piece of injera for herself, to eat with dinner.

The girls said their Habesha (Ethiopian) mother always let the younger girl do this on injera-making day. Each time I've watched this little habit, I have been touched at the way my daughter is so obviously cherishing the memories of her Ethiopian mother, and keeping those memories alive for her little sister. Watching them made me think of the way my own mom used to make piecrust and give each of us kids our own bit.

Today after my daughter helped her sister make her own piece of injera, she did something new. She gathered the last dab of batter in a cup and called my two year old over. She then carefully helped her pour one tiny, final injera. My two year old grin proudly as she drizzled the batter on the skillet.

As I watched, I realized that a new tradition was being born right before my eyes. Even more touching, my 11 year old was choosing to expand her treasured tradition to also include her new family.

After the injera was done and the two year old ran off to play, I went to my daughter misty-eyed, and kissed her on the cheek.

"Thank you," I said. She leaned in to receive my kiss and her lips curved into a smile.

I am pretty sure that if her Habesha mom could have seen her just then, she would have been smiling as well.