In the distance, a semicircle of pink colonnaded buildings curved along the edge of the Parque de María Luisa, accessible via bridges over a goldfish-filled moat. Above us, sunlight filtered through the branches of an ancient banyan tree, dappling the ground in a flickering patchwork of light and dark. I hopped off my bike and ran a finger along the spine of a fallen leaf, broad and shiny green on one side, brown and felty on the other. Beau, who liked to play on the exposed snakelike root system of the enormous banyans, knelt on all fours a few feet from me, observing with ferocious intensity some tiny crawling thing as it meandered around the tree root.

My phone buzzed: a video call.

“I bet it’s Declan,” said Beau, scrabbling across the tree root to reach me. “Can I say hi?”

It was indeed Declan. I passed the phone to Beau.

“Hello!” Beau stopped walking and set down his notebook so he could hold the phone straight out with two hands. Beau adores talking on the phone, treating each call as an occasion worthy of note. He’d never walk and talk, or talk and do anything else that might distract him from the person on the other end. “Hello, Declan!”

“Hello, mo stoirín,” said Declan. Declan is Irish. Fittingly, he employs all kinds of Irish phrases and expressions, sometimes with great authenticity, and sometimes, I am convinced, to ham it up. My children find this charming.

Or at least one of them does.

“I cannot believe the great day is here at last. Are you here?”

“We are here! And guess what, Declan!” Beau said. “Guess what!”

“I don’t know, Beau. Can you give a bit of direction?”

“Nope! Guess.”

“Okay,” said Declan. He shut his very blue eyes, showcasing a set of very black eyelashes. His eyes popped back open. “There’s an asteroid inbound to earth? They discovered a superpower gene? Your mother brought home a kitten?”

“Better,” said Beau.

“Better than superpowers and kittens? You’ve got me.”

“WearegoingtotheAlhambra!”

“Sorry,” said Declan. He assumed a faux-thoughtful expression and cupped his free hand to his ear. “What was that? I didn’t quite get it. Sounded like you said we are going to the Alhambra, but that can’t be it, because—”

“That’s it! That’s it, Declan! We are going to the Alhambra!”

“—but that can’t be it, because your mother promised I could tell you.”

“Hi, Declan.” I wormed my way onto the screen, looming behind Beau, who was still vibrating with excitement. “Uh. I told him.”

“So I gather,” Declan said wryly. “I take it it went well?”

“I’m sorry,” I said. Even to myself, I sounded lame. “He was begging.”

“Sure, no worries, then. The wee man is a tough one to put off. And where is the lovely Aurora?”