sitting

 

I am sitting at the kitchen table with a ten-year-old. The sounds of motos rushing by drift through the metal gate and kitchen door. Hot soup on a cool night is followed by a batman themed memory game, cards and talks of fútbol. We address each other using tú. I don’t think he minds my grammatical slights, just as I pretend not to notice his sleights of hand as we play. How often am I supposed to let the kiddo win anyhow?