A Sleepy Boy In The City That Never Sleeps: The Search for Love and Happiness (Sleepy Boy Books Book 2) by Watrous Margaret & Watrous Jim

Author:Watrous, Margaret & Watrous, Jim [Watrous, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-09-25T16:00:00+00:00

Time Hurries On

Isabel went into convalescent care in Los Banos, just a few blocks from the newspaper office by the airport and we visited her twice a day. I would go there at noon and, if she could, Anna would be there too. In the evening, all four of us went. Anisa and Amanda had the run of the place.

After kissing Isabel, they would greet her roommate, a thin woman by the name of Oney, who chewed tobacco and talked with a kind but raspy voice and often let loose a hearty laugh.

Then the two of them would begin their rounds. The nurses kept an eye on them, of course, but the two girls, hand in hand, dropped in to visit any number of residents. Every so often, we were introduced as "those girls' parents," and we were immensely proud of their uninhibited and innocent sweetness. Of course, they always came back from their travels with candy in their pockets and hands.

We spoke so much Spanish that it became our "official language." Once, at a grocery store, I had to scold them a little for grabbing things off the shelves and a lady walking by suddenly stopped and listened.

"What are you saying?" she demanded. I explained. As she walked away, pushing her cart, I distinctly heard her mumble something about "editor of the paper" and "kids can't speak English."

When Anisa slipped in the garage and bumped her nose, we took her to the Emergency Room and the nurse asked her where it hurt. She answered. The nurse's head swerved over to Anna, who interpreted for her. "This child doesn't speak English?"

Anna assured her, "Oh, she will pretty soon."

When Anisa attended Play Daze Day Care, she understood what everyone said, but she always responded in Spanish, much to the staff's consternation.

But soon, our firstborn had a firm grasp of English. I wish I could take the credit, but our English teacher was "Sesame Street," and the girls watched it twice a day. Amanda also liked Mr. Rogers, but Anisa made a sour face and shook her head. "Don't like him," she said.

Pretty soon, with Isabel not at home with us anymore, we generally spoke English at home. Isabel came home from time to time and once, when Amanda, still in a high chair, regaled us all with her comments on the latest news from Sesame Street.

"Speak Spanish," Isabel said in Spanish.

"I don't want to," Amanda said as clear as a bell.

Her grandmother studied this child for a moment and then warned in English, "You don't speak Spanish, I don't love you."

Amanda didn't even blink. "That's OK."

Anna, Anisa and I couldn't believe what we'd just heard. But Anna began to work magic with Amanda. She started by just playing records and letting her enjoy the rhythm of the language in music. Then she slowly added in words and phrases. It wasn't long before Amanda spoke Spanish with an accent as native as Anna's.

One afternoon, I arrived home to find Anna upset about something Amanda had done.

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