We took Loli to get her ears pierced yesterday. Dreadfully late if you're latin (they pierce them right after birth), dreadfully early if you're a WASP. Since she's both, we figured what the heck, let's let her be dreadful on both accounts. (Oh, a terrible use of the phrase. My Loli could never be dreadful.) So here I have this blue-eyed daughter now, with her little rubies in. And next to me, this blond-haired boy, climbing on me now, saying "Me das papitas por favor?" Translating it for me into English, talking with an accent.
Let's be honest here. I'm not that latin. Had bad Spanish until my grandma moved in. I once even ate gravy on my rice. And somehow I ended up with these kids -- or at least this boy -- whose favorite singer is Olga Tañon, who asks night and day for arroz con frejoles, who, when overwhelmed, looks up at the sky and says (of course in Spanish) "Oh Holy Father." He is like a tiny little boy version of my grandma Lola. And it makes me wonder, if Matt and I do move away and Loli ends up growing up elsewhere, will I have a latin son and a white daughter? As Lucas would say (wide-eyed, sucking in air between his teeth, shaking his head in slight disdain) "Pero vean eso."
Digging in the dirt
1 week ago