Washington Post columnist shares heartwarming experience of son wanting her to read to him in Spanish.

By Susana Diaz:

“At bedtime the other night, my 4-year old son Joaquin asked if I could read to him in Spanish. My heart melted. Our nightly ritual, if I get home on time, is bath time, followed by some impromptu dancing and reading two or three books in bed.

The one book he picked on this night however was in English. Suddenly “Little Bear” by Else Holmelund Minarik became “Osito Chiquitito.” I read every line in English first and then I came up with my best Spanish translation on the spot.

Joaquin giggled at my elaborate enunciation.

I giggled even louder. My Spanish is not perfect, but it made for a fun evening that reminded me of my Abuela Gladys and her tough-as-nails attitude to get her American-born grandchildren to speak Spanish at home.

Growing up, my parents spoke to my brother and sister and me in Spanish because they only spoke Spanish. My mother is from Guatemala and my father is from Nicaragua. They both immigrated to California in the 1970s. They met and settled in the east side of Hollywood, where many other Central Americans came to seek a better life. My father took English and photography classes at night and sort of taught my mom by day while they both ran a wedding photography business from our home. My mom also learned English with us doing homework and by watching TV.

Entering kindergarten I was put in ESL (English as a second language) during recess break because my English was a mix of Mighty Mouse and Sesame Street phrases. I felt annoyed I couldn’t play outside, but I wasn’t alone, there were other kids like me, and others who had just arrived from their countries. Some of us were back on the playground in less than two months.

I grew up bilingual. I think bilingual. I talk bilingually or in Spanglish to my Joaquin and to my daughter Valentina, 2, who are soaking it all in.”

Read more here.