Chato, Chuy, Chepo, Chela, Chana, Chango, Mono, Memo, Meche, Monce, Nini, Gordo… Flaca – it’s a mouthful, I know. En verdad, we could go on forever, pero mejor let’s get to the point. That being, of course, the fun that are our nicknames in Spanish, better known as apodos or sobrenombres. You know what I’m talking about. That nickname that nobody but your family members and very, very good friends are supposed to know. The one that always makes you cringe whenever somebody new hears you being called that! Read More
Day 6: My lunch - pulled pork sandwich with sweet potato fries! Sip, bien pipirisnais… lol! #JuneFotoOfTheDay
He tries. He really does. We all do. It’s become an entire family effort to maintain Edgar’s bilingual skills. Even more so to ensure he is fluent in Spanish. Inevitably, as much as we try to avoid it, we always end up talking to him in English instead of Spanish. It’s not that we don’t feel comfortable speaking in only español, pero cómo que the words come out easier in English.
When he was younger, I think we were better at it. He was a lot more tolerant of our “speak Spanish!” commands anyway. Nowadays, nos sigue la corriente… but he has also made it perfectly clear English is the language he feels more comfortable in.
“Why do we have to speak in Spanish if we all speak English too?!”, he once asked us. To which all we could reply was ¡en español! as we tried our best not to crack up at his pretty smart aleck complaint. Read More
As children we did not know there was such a thing as time out. Instead, we knew that when mamá or papá gave us that look we had better stop doing whatever it was we were doing, or else. The or else could have been anything from un manotazo, to a pellizco or even a cintarazo or chancletazo. Usually it was either of the latter. It wasn’t that my parents were mean. Nor were they aching to give us a good manotazo all of the time. The truth is we were bad kids! Read More