Let's talk about attention. Pictured is the physical embodiment of such a thing, all tyrant, olive-skinnned, laughing, roaring, doing whatever it is that three-year-olds do. But he's a now a big-brother, and we must count ourselves as enemies, opponents competing for the attention (of my project partners, his parents). I don't stand a chance.
The other day, I mistakenly (read: on purpose) told my little friend that his sister is actually mine, as is his golden mane of hair and that little nose. He responded, "
Mira coño, loco viejo, ella es mía, ese peló mío, este nariz mía. Sucio loco viejo coño!"
I'd wash his mouth out with soap... if I had any.
