Cuando Llega el Amor

When I lived in Ecuador, I used to watch this Latin soap opera, and I loved it.  I don’t know what it was about this show.  There was drama.  There was intrigue.  There was betrayal.  But most of all, the words and gestures of the characters were so exaggerated that, even as I was learning Spanish, I was able to make out most of the storyline.  I loved it!  It was the greatest thing EVER.
María’s cousin was about to elope with Antonia’s brother when they found out that Juanita’s maid’s daughter was secretly having an affair with the fiancée of the soon-to-be-wed young lover, who was secretly working as a stripper in order to earn money to fly to Madrid to go to art school.  Or something or other.  I don’t know.  But the point is, it was AWESOME.  And I learned some wicked-cool Spanish by watching that show.
Well, last night, in our very own living room, we had a little Latin drama of our own that played out right before our eyes.  (I think it’s in the blood, you guys.)  Here’s how it went.  (And it was awesome, too…in that awesomely hilarious kind of way.)
Jadon (from upstairs):  I am bleeding.  There is BLOOD!!
(Thump, thump! Bang!  And lots of other noise as the boys make their way down the stairs.)
(Because we were busy watching Desperate Housewives, and duh, we’ve seen blood before.  We figured no one was really dying.  Parents of the Year Award 2011 goes to us.)
In a burst of miniature Latino Guatemalan drama, two 4-year-old tornadoes burst through the baby-gate-turned-dog-barrier that blocks the way to the upstairs.
Jadon dramatically marches toward Jason, who is sitting in the large overstuffed chair, still watching Housewives.  He holds his little tan hand high above his head, right in front of Jason’t eyes.
Jadon:  Look!  Dis is BLOOD, Dad!
Jordan:  (Dramatically grabs Jadon’s hand and visibly inspects it, then shouts in a very loud voice.)  OH MY GAWD!  (with a very straight face)
At which point Mommy falls off the couch laughing, and Daddy nearly pees himself as he hysterically slaps his knee in a similar fit of laughter.
Both boys looked at us with drama-filled little faces, holding the bloody hand high above Jadon’s head in a life-saving measure as they made their way to the sink to wash it.
As soon as the grown adults in the room regained their composure, they were able to explain to the ever-so-dramatic 4-year-olds that if they would refrain from jamming their fingers up their noses, they would not produce so much blood.  And OH MY GAWD, don’t they know that Desperate Housewives is on?
All we needed was some nice Latin music in the background, and we would have had a fine novela, fit for la televisión.

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