Source: The Guardian
By Dwyer Gunn
On a frigid Saturday night in January, Ingrid Latorre, a 33-year-old woman with dark eyes and long dark hair, kept a careful eye on her 14-month-old son, Anibal, as he toddled around the basement playroom of a red brick house in Denver’s Observatory Park neighborhood. Outside, the streets of the upscale residential neighborhood, which are full of children riding bikes during the day, were calm and quiet.
Bryant, Ingrid’s eight-year-old son, started telling me about his elementary school, a bilingual program in a suburb of Denver. Favorite subject? Math. Favorite sport? Soccer. Anibal joined the conversation, babbling as Bryant launched into a description of last year’s Halloween festivities.
“My mom found me a monster mask with eyes that light up!” he said with a grin. “We all went trick-or-treating together – my dad, my mom, Anibal, Shayla [the dog], and me. And we got so much candy!”
“Shayla got a lot of candy, too,” Ingrid said, dimples flashing, of the family’s stout English bulldog. “She went as a ballerina.”