Papa says that he wants to give up working for Lent. Mama would like to give up being pregnant (and will certainly do so during Lent, her eternity of bliss is assured). Inès wants to give up math and I want to give up school altogether.
But more than anything, we would all like to give up being sick. I'm a little tired of our home being turned into a hospital ward and want it back. I also want my weight back. Going from 17 kilos to 14 and a half has made me a smaller big boy, though it has made me the first in our family history to sport a six-pack.
In the midst of misery there is always a break in the clouds. On Mardi Gras I showed everyone my American roots. I told my classmates how we American Indians (or Native Americans if you want a job with the government) always managed to outrun the buffalo. "Chief indian keepum trim. Lay off peace pipe, eat only vegetables and lean buffalo meat, easy on the trans fats. Run around house, drive rising moon mama and setting sun papa crazy, keepum washboard stomach muscles."
As usual, there were plenty of knights, pirates, princesses, there was even a cowboy or two (hey dude, my papa is from Texas, you look like a yankee!). But I was the only petit indien.
By the way, papa can rest easy. I gave up scalping for Lent.
Want to see a few more? Check out some carnival snaps here:
almost Rio
