All those years of being me a mule and insisting that he spoke back to me ONLY in English may have left their mark.
We were in the planning stage of a realistic account during his Italian lesson.
Me - "Great idea, but can you tell me in Italian since we are doing Italian in this lesson"
Son of Thor - "Io...so..sono............stato...NO! ......I can't speak Italian to you. The words come down in Italian from my head but turn into English when they slide into my mouth and they won't turn back into Italian again when they can see your face looking at them !!!!!!" (all said in an utterly outraged tone at my making such an unreasonable request)
He is fine using Italian with me on a word/sentence level when we are working through the masses of grammar and language extension he has to do in quarta, or gong through the Italian books of Sci/His/Geog, but free speaking.....apparently the Italian words have a phobia with regards to my fisog.
He ended up coming up with ideas for the details of the story with me in English and then hiding behind the sofa to write them up in Italian. Presumably to stop my ugly mug scaring the words into translation.
I have a horrible feeling this might make me the "my bilingual baby" equivalent of Joan Crawford.
Which is some feat given that any coat hanger brought into this house gets immediately sucked into some kind of coat hanger black hole the second I put it down, never to be seen again.