Nothing compares to a Cuban upbringing. As a Cubano, you’re immersed in Latino and Caribbean culture – that means pastelitos de guayaba y queso and Ceila Cruz blasting on the radio. These tweets are nothing but the *TRUTH* when it comes to growing up Cuban:
One cafécito cubano and you’re awake all week.
Nothing gets us moving in the morning like the smell of abuelita’s coffee. Starbucks’s black-eye iced coffee is like water in comparison.
Mami and Papi are master wordsmiths.
¿Qué tikitiki, ni tikitiki? It’s called texting, a.k.a. how everyone else communicates.
Cuban parents also expect you to have your pilas on at all time.
Otherwise, expect extreme punishments. All you can do is duck, cover, and pray to San Lázaro.
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You know not to leave a single dish in the sink.
Keep your head down y frégalo sin complaints.
Your dishwasher is your two hands and the sponge.
But for real, I didn’t know the dishwasher actually washed dishes until I moved out.
Birth names are always forgotten.
Like how your primo Horacio is called “Tuti,” or tía Nicole is “Mimi.” Why do we even have names? ?
And so are brand names.
And all paper towels are “el Bounty” and storage bags are “eh Siploc.”
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We trust our abuelitas blindly.
I still have no clue where this delicious hard candy with a gooey center came from and continue to eat it.
And these were the most exciting part of lunch.
The first one was always the hardest to get out but it was always worth it. #winning
Everything turns into a family reunion.
But, no. Really. From Pachi’s recital to Learco’s kidney stone operation. All you need are dominoes and music to liven up the joint.
Everyone you meet is related in some way.
Pero, I was born in Florida, but OK…
Your parents are always sending packages to Cuba.
And when you complain about wanting new jeans, mami and papi remind you that you live in the US and should be grateful.
You have to argue that you are Latino.
Even if your name is Jorge and you bring arroz con frijoles negro for lunch every day.
But once everyone learns you’re Cuban, they tell you the same jokes.
Do I look like I can swim 90 miles? I just had four pastelitos during this conversation.
People think you are loud, until they learn you’re Cuban.
After that your volume level just seems normal.
Suavemente played at every family gathering, more than once.
And you ran to the dance floor every time to dance with your tíos and tías like it was the first time.
What are your favorite memories of #GrowingUpCuban? mitú wants to know. Tell us in the comments below!