#i mean obviously julieta would be the chef

I’m Antonio. I’m five. I am a Madrigal. I live at the Hotel del Encanto. I have my very own room and a cat with spots like a jaguar. His name is Parce. And a bird. His name’s Pico.

Mirabel is my favourite pima. She’s works in room service. Mirabel knows how much I love. Love. Love animals.

“There’s Camilo. He’s my brother. Here’s what Camilo likes — acting. He wants to be on broadway. But for now, Abuela has him working in the kid’s room.”

“Mi hermana Dolores knows everything about everything. Which is why she works as the concierge. If Dolores has not heard about a new trend, it’s most certainly not cool.”

“Señor Mariano is my tutor. He is a poet. My Abuela is friends with his mother. When we have our literature lesson, he reads about love. Which I think is icky. Icky. Icky.”

(Tell me the Madrigal’s running an enchanted hotel in the gorgeous setting of Colombia told from the perspective of five-year-old Antonio wouldn’t be adorable.)