Laura, Jaimito, and Olaia were all out last night. Laura was at some cocktail event for the Puerto Rico Chamber of Commerce, and Olaia and Jaimito attended the birthday party of a cousin. They saw "Cars." I wish I could have gone, but no, I got to stay at home and look after Javier, just the two of us, hangin’. What a treat it was, though. I think I got the best deal. He’s such a fiddle-muffin, always in motion, joking, smiling, laughing, getting into stuff. We got into stuff together. He likes that I help him get into stuff. Then we bounced on the bed. He loves that. Of course the only problem with little children, is that they never ever tire of whatever they are doing that is fun. Again. Again. Again. Do it again. And if you don’t do it one thousand million times, they wail. So we have to find something else fun to do.

Next, let’s jump on the couch. Jump jump jump jump.

"Okay, Javier, Daddy’s tired. Can we take a break?" And I plopped down on the couch and flicked on the TV. Let’s see if there are cartoons on. Javier climbed up and slumped down on the couch imitating my male couch-slouching posture. We were a couple of perfect guys, lazing on the couch. Lovely.

Then I made dinner.

"Hey, Javier, are you hungry? Let’s make dinner. What would you like." He understood, and immediately began to wail.

Daddy, I forgot, I’m hungry. You reminded me and now I want food right now – right this instant. No forget that, I want food five minutes ago.

"Okay, little man, hold your horses. I’m on it. Let’s get you some juicy." I took out a cartoon of country style pulpy fresh orange juice. The wail volume went up a notch.

DADDY! I want it NOW.

"All right, Javier, look, you had better stop crying. You will not have ANY juice until you stop crying this instant." Javier knew I meant business. There are no second chances in this house. Daddy demands instant and complete compliance or the consequences come raining down. Javier’s tears instantly shut off while I finished pouring his juice and handed it to him. "I knew you could do it, little boy. Daddy’s proud of you for holding on and being patient." I patted him on the head and gave him a little hug.

Now I must get to our dinner, I thought. "So, Javier, what shall we have? A little Daddy-style Spanish Tortilla? Sounds good. Hmmmm."

I got out the mixed vegetables, the eggs, and a glass bowl. Normally Spanish omelets have potatoes, but Puerto Rico is so damn hot, I can’t eat a lot of carbs for dinner. As soon as I have rice, pasta, or potatoes, my body goes into flop sweat mode. It’s a pain, let me tell you. Dinner, for me, ideally consists of vegetables, fruits, and a bit of meat or beans, or any variation thereof. I dumped in the mixed vegetables, eggs, garlic, and whipped it all together. I popped it in the microwave for four minutes and bam, quicky Spanish omelet. I put some cheddar cheese on top and we were good to go. Javier, however, had different ideas.

Daddy, I’m going to eat all the bread at once, stuff it all in my mouth and then only nibble at my eggs. Oh, but the orange juice was great. Daddy, he smiled and seemed to say with his little teeth full of bread, I love you. And he took a quick drink from his sippy cup for emphasis.