My daughter has lived three languages since she was born. She is three.
She was born in an English speaking country, spent 2 years in a Spanish speaking country, now lives in a Basque speaking country.
In many ways she’s inter-cultural, and in these couple of weeks spent in suburban USA I’ve noticed (beyond her Australian blended Midwest accent) that she’s a bit different from other “American” kids:
“What’s Superman?” she asked.
Finding her lying on her back, mesmerized, she said, “Look, Daddy!” pointing at the ceiling fan.
“What’s that?” A squirrel. “Can I catch it?” You can try.
When we say we’re going somewhere she always asks, “Are we walking or driving?”
She articulates accurately both the Midwestern structures frequently zoomed by and the centuries old Catholic building strolled past in our European town as the “church building”. She likes those special occasions at the “church building” where “the lady sings in front and I go to the three-year-old class.” But she also loves weekly church with her friends, plenty of scrumptious food, out in the pasture land, under our and friends’ ceilings without fans.
By Jonathan McCallum