We’re getting ready to go to the zoo — just L and I, a newly forming bi-Sunday tradition. L is excited: she’s chattering on and on in her own way: 10% Polish, 20% English, 70% L-ese. (One of the problems with raising a bilingual baby is that you never know whether she’s trying a new Polish word, a new English word, or just making up something in her own language.)

In the midst of the babbling, L suddenly says, “Mamma, afant.”

“Afant? I don’t know what that is,” K responds, as always, in Polish.

“Afant!” declares L.

“Honey, I don’t know…” K begins, then L switches languages.

“Slonik!” translates L.

“Oh! ‘Elephant!'”