I love how my bilingual children can enjoy silence together.
I love that my son thinks he can eat two ice-creams because he speaks two languages.
I love that my bilingual baby is not afraid to practice her Ukrainian gestures (fig sign means denying request)
I love that my bilingual children know the language of fun.
I love that I can get beautiful smile for a photo by joking in my daughter’s second language
I love how they can build relationships with their cousins sitting on the tree together.
I love that they understand grandma’s stories in Ukrainian.
I love that my daughter is able to speak to her dance partner (Georgian Olympic figure skater) in his native Russian.
I love that my bilingual children let me enjoy motherhood in my native language.
I love how bilingual children are eager to learn about big-big world out there.
I love how my bilingual son can beg for a puppy in two languages.
I love that they use their second language as a door to the culture (and look at them knock!).
But what I love the most about bilingual children is that they are children. My children.
This post was prepared for the February edition of the Raising Multilingual Children Blogging Carnival, maintained by Annabelle at The PiriPiri Lexicon. It is hosted by Adam Beck of Bilingual Monkeys.
