Shin Chan looked at him with his big, unblinking eyes. "Mi secreto es que a veces hago tonterías para que mi mamá se ría. Antes no reía mucho. Ahora, me tira la chancla. Eso es amor."
"Children, this is Shin Chan from Japan. Be kind."
Shin Chan nodded wisely. "Pues báilalas con otra. O conmigo. Pero no pongas cara de culo."
The next morning, Futaba Kindergarten’s Spanish branch was in for a shock. The principal, a gentle giant named Don Carlos, introduced the new student. ver shin chan en espanol
In flawless, machine-gun Spanish, he announced: "¡Buenos días, señora! Soy Shinnosuke. Tengo cinco años. Me gusta bailar el chiki-chiki, mirar tetas y comer churros. ¿Tiene usted churros?"
Three months later, the Noharas were invited to a neighborhood dinner. Mitsi had learned to make paella (it was 70% burned rice, 30% hope). Hiroshi was learning Spanish curse words from the taxi drivers. And Shin Chan?
He hopped out, looked left, looked right, and then, with the confidence of a conquistador, marched up to the nearest neighbor—a stern old woman hanging laundry. Shin Chan looked at him with his big, unblinking eyes
The moving truck had barely stopped in front of the small, whitewashed house on Calle de la Naranja in Seville, Spain, when the chaos began.
Shin Chan walked to the front of the class. He did not bow. Instead, he pulled down his eyelid with one finger, stuck out his tongue, and wiggled his hips while patting his rear. "¡Mirad, soy un mono bailarín!"
El Pequeño Samurái del Barrio
The old woman dropped her clothespin. Her dentures nearly followed.
He then proceeded to pull a wriggling, live lizard from his pocket. "Se llama Lagarto Asesino. Es mi samurái interior."