Piovono Polpette, the Italian dub of It’s Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs is playing in the living room. It’s an exclusive viewing party for an audience of one – my seven-year-old son. He’s sprawled out across our chenille indigo sofa in comfy weekend clothes, clinging to every word.

Although he doesn’t study foreign languages and his parents grew up speaking English, this scene isn't unusual. Our lives aren’t unlike most of our neighbors with one exception. I began speaking Italian to my son, Ale, when he was born. I’ve never stopped. Unless I need to clarify, everything I say to him is in the language of Dante.