So the other day the Flaco says to me "Papa!" I say to him "No Flaco, that's not a potato. That's a communist*." I was befuddled as to how he could make such a grave error, given that normally he is sharp as a whip. So he says to me "Papa!" again. "No Flaco" I say. "Papa!" he says, more urgently. "No Flaco, no es una papa" I say**. Exasperated with me, he finally says "Pope!" At which moment of course I realized he was not saying la papa but el papa - John Paul II to be exact - who, in the poster hanging above my grandma's bed, does bear a striking resemblance to the undecorated communist face. Thank goodness he translates for me.
*Follow the links if this makes no sense. Which I'm sure it doesn't!
**He did once confuse a guinea pig with a potato, but that is neither here nor there.
Friend's Backpacking Trip- Greenlake and Echo Lake
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