Last night we had a slumber party with the Flaco. We turned out the lights and he started talking talking talking talking como nunca. Actually, that's not quite true. There would be long silences during which time we'd assume he was asleep, and then suddenly from the dark we'd hear his tiny little voice. "Pillow fight the air! Feroz pillow fight!" Silence. "I'm marvelous, papa!" Silence. "I love you, birthday cake!" Silence. "No te vayas, papa. Quedate aqui, papa. Peligroso!" Long silence. ("I think he's asleep." "It's been two hours!" "He's gotta be by now.") "El chorizo huele riquisimo!*"
*It should be noted that there was no chorizo cooking. And that to Flaco, chorizo isn't even food (we call it salchicha.) As far as he knows, it's a guy dressed as a sausage wearing a sombrero running down the street. Which leads me to believe that said guy dressed as a chorizo must have been wearing a very good smelling cologne.
2 weeks ago