Shlovan and his family arrived here in September 2001, his father a former prisoner of the Saddam Hussein regime.

The 8-year-old learned English in school -- “My teacher said if she sat me beside a rock I’d talk to it” -- while at home, his family spoke Kurdish and held tight to their traditions. And his parents held onto their Kurdish parental roles -- strict, overprotective, patriotic, homesick.

Shlavon pushes play on a video and up pops an example. Himself as a Kurdish mom, wearing a dress and a wig, walking through a park holding a young girl’s hand then suddenly scampering off to pick weeds.

Palpina, he says to me, a green that is a staple in the Kurdish diet but can’t be found in American grocery stores, although it grows wild here.

And Kurdish moms go wild for it.

“This is something everybody who is Kurdish -- especially living in a foreign county -- has experienced with our moms.”

It’s embarrassing for the kids when it happens, he explains, but through the connection on social media, it becomes a bond.