It’s just dinner, Tuesdays, from now on.

The bilingual experiment is lagging a bit, lost its novelty I suppose. Yet, I’ve noticed when our child hears Spanish from Dad, the reaction is amazement and delight. My husband’s stealth Spanish competency is rarely revealed. Ho hum, mom’s daily Spanish is mundane and hardly attracts attention. But if Daddy speaks Spanish, wow! Giggle, smile, giggle. Español!

So this week I asked if he’d be willing to speak Spanish one dinner a week. After all, he took twelve months of intensive Spanish the year we were in Chile. My husband is at an intermediate level. Fifteen years ago he helped lead a Spanish conversation table here in Madison.

Last Sunday he said Monday or Tuesday would be best for him. We agreed on Tuesdays. For ten years he’s been listening to us chatting in Spanish. Once in a while he’ll throw in a ringer, say a word in our “secret language” (that 500 million people speak) and the crowd goes wild.

Tuesday of this week he was as good as his word. When he sat down at the dinner table, I asked him if he was ready to hablar español and he said, “Sí.”

Baby Bear was beyond excited, chirping in Spanish, bubbling, gushing sentences. Papa Bear was holding his own, between bites. Momma Bear was smiling and talking. Joyful family moments.

Momma Bear said this Tuesday night’s conversation was just right.

And our Tuesday Spanish Conversation Dinner Tradition is born. Olé!

Gracias for reading Fake Flamenco! -Rebecca

Para leer este ensayo en español, haz un clic en El papá oso dice que sí.