Mommy, she doesn’t have an accent!
February 23, 2010
So at this point I’m updating this blog about once every three months – not quite the ideal pace! I had started writing this entry when we were finishing our third week in Oaxaca, Mexico, back in late December. Henry had been exploring Oaxaca like a champ, trying different foods, happily drinking hot chocolate in them main square (el zócalo), going to daily Spanish class with his cousins and introducing himself – in Spanish – to every police offer he saw. Henry describes himself as a “policeman doctor mechanic chef” whenever prompted about his career aspirations, so he would casually mention to these police offers with semi-automatic weapons “Soy policía también” (I’m a police offer too) as they shook hands.
Last year in Mexico, Henry became acutely aware that people spoke different languages, and he would often point out who spoke what – and would enthusiastically note those who spoke both English AND Spanish. This year was the first time that he focused on accents. I’ll backtrack by saying that one day, over a year ago, he jokingly told me that ‘mittens’ in Spanish were ‘MEE-tehns’. I was amazed at the time that he could imitate a Spanish accent, as he was not even 2 1/2, but he never explicitly mentioned the concept of accents until our trip. We were walking down the street and stopped to ask someone directions (pretty obviously [to us] a North American, but not so to Henry). As we walked away, he proclaimed with astonishment, “Mommy, she doesn’t have an accent!”.
Henry knows that most people in Mexico speak Spanish, and that in the US most speak English (although he’s consistently exposed to lots of people here that speak many other languages, too), and he’s interested to know why that is. And now, his interest lies in understanding why some people speak with accents. He also prides himself on correctly people’s pronunciation of Spanish (he actually considers himself to be a Spanish teacher, too – just not as often). The other evening while visiting some friends, I asked Henry’s 3-year old pal if she knew how to say ‘butterfly’ in Spanish. She didn’t, so I asked Henry. He turned to her and commanded “Say ‘mah’” (and waited until she did), “ree” (repeated), “poh” (repeated), “sah” (repeated also), and then repeated “mariposa”.
Henry’s comprehension is still much better than his production, and expect that will always be the case. He’s using more and more Spanish at school, though, and it continues to warm my heart to hear him declare his love for me in Spanish.
