Yago and I often walk to the plaza in the morning. It’s a popular place to hang out,
with lots of sophisticated, interesting older ladies and gents to observe.
OK, some aren’t so interesting.
This must be the official napping corner. Even those who bring their own bench always nap in this corner.
The plaza has something for everyone. I patrol the footwear situation.
(Not to self: Quit posting blurry shoe photos)
Yago waves at pigeons. All kids love pigeons, but pigeons only love kids with Moms who buy supersize Cheetos for breakfast.
Sometimes I get absorbed in my obsession with Spanish shoes and I inadvertently leave Yago to amuse himself.
- Bored and Cheeto-less toddler: “Hey Mom, would you put down that camera and play with me?……. Fine. I’m running away with the pigeons.”
Because he is blonde and blue-eyed, Yago gets a lot of attention when he roams around the plaza. As people pass they call out “Hola Guapo” (Hello handsome) or “Hola Rubio” (Hello Blondie).
Then, as Spanish love to do, they call out some advice or warning to me.
- Well meaning but pushy stranger: “Hey lady, your kid lost a shoe.”
- Me: “Just one? “If he steps on something painful I’m sure I’ll hear about it.”
- Well meaning but pushy stranger: “Hey lady, your kid is running down the plaza.”
- Me, patience for pushy strangers waning: “He’ll turn around when that pigeon does.”
- Well meaning but pushy stranger: “Hey lady, your kid is eating cigarette butts.”
- Me, justifying my neglectful parenting: “Again?, Ya, well, we do that in my country.”
- Well meaning but pushy stranger: “Hey lady, a pigeon just crapped on your kid’s reindeer.”
- Me: “It’s a MOOSE!”