Running to the slide & swing
Since this villa has both a vineyard and olive trees (Scott calls it the olive garden... ba dum dum), a gardener and his family live here year round. His name is Salvatore, and he has identical twin daughters who are Owen's age. We've already spent the twilight of two evenings playing with them, and I've been amused by their lack of awareness of a language barrier. They just talk away at each other. The more dramatic twin is fond of sticking out her tongue and blowing spit, so it's not hard to tell when she is unhappy. Owen accidentally kicked her in the face when he was at the top of the slide and she on the step behind him. She wailed. Talk about an awkward playground situation. Luckily Scott and I had just been studying simple Italian phrases, and "I'm sorry" was on the list. Mi dispiace. Her mother was gracious and reassuring, and I'm pretty sure she shrugged and said something about there not being any blood.
They sent Owen in tonight with their bilingual copy of Cinderella. He's in bed studying it right now so they can chat tomorrow about castelli and glass scarpettas.