Here’s one.
He’s about 6 years old. A little taller than most kids his age. He’s fair-skinned and has narrow thin lips. He favors wearing a pair of brown Sanuk, cargo short pants, and tees with naughty prints like, “I did not do it, eat him!” and “Watch out, little rascal here.”
He is noisy. He’s trilingual. He speaks English, Filipino, and another mysterious language. The latter is inaudible and completely alien but definitely comprehensible. It’s his hugs, kisses, and tantrums. It’s his good nights and hello-you’re-backs; his I love yous before retiring for the night; his begging for his turn to use the laptop for his Ben10 online games; his smiles for sitting on the driver’s seat on his make-believe car racing. It’s his missing two front teeth while telling a story about how he folded his Foldabots. It’s his reading K-Zone magazine and profusely…

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