Today. San Sebastián, 85 degrees. I pick up Buckley from school, and she's still in her morning hoodie.

-ME:Do you want to take your hoodie off?

-B: NO!

We walk about a dozen feet. She proceeds to unzip her hoodie, rip it off dramatically, wipe her brow and sigh heavily. Seriously. In that order. Then, she looks to the ground and mutters:

-Hostia.

I AM NOT JOKING. Definitely a learned-at-school word.