He plops down next to Jane, coloring book in hand. I wiggle his little foot, and I wear a smile that I know looks happy. Moffy flips open a page and mutters to Jane, words that are clearly not English. Uh-oh. Lily coughs on her chip. “Did he…” I pat her back, unsure of how she’ll take this news. “I think he might have spoken French,” I say. “Or maybe it was Spanish.”
