Me: I saw you playing with Fernanda; was it a bit hard since she only speaks Spanish?
Her: I speak Spanish.
Me: I see.
Her: But we spoke Polish. Fernanda and me speak Polish.
Me: Really?
Her: Yes, I speak a lot of languages. I speak French and English and Irish and Spanish and Polish and German and Greek and Dutch and Flemish and Italian and Tagalog and Flatten.
Me: Flatten?
Her: Yes, Flatten.
Me: Latin?
Her: Yes, Flatten.
Later
Princess is frantically waving her hands in the air.
Me: What’s wrong sweetheart?
Her: There’s a fly and I’m afraid it’s going to pique the bejaysus out of me.
That’s English and French and Irish all in the same sentence.
Later Still.
Princess holds out to me a freebie book of Dutch fairytales we have been given in the chemist with our prescription (the chemist guessed our linguistic group and missed): Read it to me while I do a poo. [I love this job].
Me: But I hardly speak any Dutch, sweetheart.
Her: Read it to me in English.
Me: But it’s in Dutch.
Her: But Daddy read it in French.
Me: But Daddy is able to translate fairy tales from Dutch to French on the hoof but I am not because I don’t really speak any Dutch.
Pause.
Her: I speak Dutch.
Me: OK, but you can’t read.
Her: You read it to me in Dutch.
Me: Er was eens een weduwe die twee docters had…
Her: Keep going.
Me: Are you enjoying this?
Her: Yes, I speak Dutch.
She gets her stubborn streak from her father.