The Language of Love

It’s amazing to watch Flynn speak, read and write Chinese.  She continues to enjoy her immersion kindergarten program and I’m grateful she’s attending such a good school. 

About a week ago Flynn made a surprising remark as we drove home from school.  She said, “I’m kind of afraid to learn more Chinese.  What if I begin to forget English?  Then I won’t be able to talk to you.” 

I told her she didn’t need to worry about forgetting English. I reminded her that we all speak English in our house and most of her friends speak English so she won’t have the opportunity to forget it. 

Flynn thought about that for a while and then said, “Yeah, but I used to speak something else and now I forgot it. Maybe I can forget English too.” 

Her comments took me off guard and I was once again reminded of Flynn’s fabulous memory.  For the first two years of her life Flynn spoke Cantonese.  When we first met she didn’t know a word of English and I could barely manage to proclaim, “I’m an American!” in Mandarin.  (Wo shi Mei guo ren.)

During her first few months at home Flynn and I spent hours looking at English vocabulary flash cards, pointing out words and pictures in big Richard Scarry books, and trying to communicate with each other.  The experience helped to strengthen our bond as mother and daughter. 

Flynn’s life in Beihai, Guangxi China is a part of her.  One day I hope we can explore this history together.  

On a much lighter note, Flynn and I had fun recently at the Renaissance Festival.  We joined up with Flynn’s best friend from Pre-School, “M,” and the girls had fun looking at castles, talking to fairies and meeting members of the festival’s royal family.  They even had a private audience with the Queen and took an impromptu belly-dancing lesson.  

In whatever language we speak or what century we visit—once thing remains the same.  I adore my girl.  As I said to Flynn the moment I first saw her, “Wo ai ni.”  I love you! She's my Beihai Beauty.