I stumble my way through the Spanish translations – trying to act casual.  My son, who knows far more Spanish than I do, starts correcting me and helping me to pronounce the difficult words.  He’s not using it as a “look what I know, silly old man” moment, thankfully, but more of a “here’s the correct way to say it, now let’s get back to the story.” That’s interesting to think about, the language didn’t matter, it was all about  the story.  To him, it was just another way of sharing the new adventures of a dog in a sombrero...