For the last several weeks I’ve found my son quietly sitting in front of the TV watching Spainish cartoons and gameshows. If he watches a DVD he always puts on the Spanish language version whenever it’s available. He even watches the SAP versions of The Simpsons and Friends. I never thought much of it, especially in a time where Dora and Diego have gone mainstream. But my boy’s fascination with all things Spanish came to a head today as we were shopping in Astoria Queens.

I’m used to Hispanic people asking me for directions. Many, many, people over the years have assumed that I was Latino. I once had a boss that told me to not be ashamed of my Dominican heritage, which I never knew I had. I took four years of Spanish in high school and three years in college so I can hold a conversation in Spanish if I have to, though I usually don’t because of nervousness and fear of looking like an idiot. So when a woman came up to me and asked if I spoke Spanish I, like the jerk I can sometimes be, said no. My boy, however, said “si.” Then they had a brief and very coherent conversation that went exactly like this:

“¿Donde esta el “N” tren, mijo?” the woman asked my little boy.

“Lo siento, yo no se. Preguntaré a mi padre.” Devin turned to me.

“Daddy, where’s the N train?”

“Next block.” I said, amazed by what was going on in front of me.

“La proxima calle,” he said to the smiling lady.

“Gracias chulito.”

My jaw was on the ground. After I picked it up I asked my little genius where he learned to speak Spanish. He said “I don’t know. Let’s go get chicken nuggets.”

If anyone reading this believes that this actually happend, then you have no clue what day this post went up.