I hadn't given the idea much thought. We'd been together 8 yrs, married 7. My Nica wife wanted my baby. Just like the song, or so it seemed. I was flattered, to the point stupidity. Her intentions were securing that life-bond that is the ultimate biological expression of man-woman union, something beyond social legalities or religious oaths.
And so, 2 & half years ago, Lance was born in Leon. (Conceived in NJ, USA, which matters little, if no one holds it against him.) A little latino with hair the color of a lion's. Here's a foto of him on Christmas eve, up way past his bedtime, holding onto a power pole waiting for Santa Claus. Someone gave him the idea that Santa's a Sandinista, or so it appears.
He got a haircut for Christmas. The next foto shows him getting his New Year's bath.
Needless to say, my life, what remains for this old retiree holed up half the year in Nicaragua where, I once thought, budgets can stretch to the max, is topsy-turvy, is now dedicated to this little guy of ours. Changing diapers, cleaning poopy butts, hanging out in the park or sometimes on the corner watching a veritable city menagerie pass us by, going on walk-abouts where he climbs every step & peers into every open-door house & says "adios!" or "hola!" - the utter joy of my life and his friendly ways shines a welcome light into many a stranger's life.
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