We’re creatures of habit, the Boy and I. After dinner, there’s really only one place to go. I could say it’s an effort to get exercise, but I’m the only one really moving: the Boy, he’s just laughing, chatting, fussing — being a typical two-year-old.

We move in shapes — triangles maybe — from the driveway to the swing to the sandbox, back to the driveway.

There are always interruptions. A siren sounds in the distance, draws closer. The Boy stops and watches.

After a bit more digging, he declares it’s time to go in. But on his way, it’s time for a little work, and I get a glimpse into his bilingual reality. In typical E fashion, he begins raking and explaining what he’s doing.

“To rake” in Polish is grabić. Before we head inside, he declares, “I’m grabing!”