Check out his tortilla skills.  He’s figured out how to scoop with the tortilla in one hand while shoveling with his fork in the other.  And even when the salsa brings tears to his eyes, he keeps right on eating.  That’s my boy!

And no, people, he hasn’t been coached.  He’s a natural.

He needs to realize next that eating the taco from both ends makes the juicy stuff run down to his elbows even faster than it would otherwise.

(The picture is from 16 August.  Can’t remember what’s in the taco.  Rice and beans, probably.  And salsa.)

Earlier this week a friend e-mailed me with the news that Dorival Caymmi died recently.  "He was a great Brazilian songwriter and singer," he writes.  "The Grandfather of Bossa Nova."  You know what Bossa Nova is if you can hum the tune to "The Girl from Ipanema".  You’ve probably heard the famous Getz/Gilberto recording or something like it in movies and commercials (or at my house).

My friend’s e-mail continues.  "His three children all became famous singers too, and one of his granddaughters as well I think, so he was the grandfather of bossa nova in more ways than one."

Mulling over such news I was sitting here a little bit depressed, thinking sad, bossa nova thoughts.  I kept reading, though, and found a pleasant surprise.  "Here’s a nice little clip, his first big hit ("What’s a Bahiana Got?"), sung by Carmen Miranda in *her* first big hit, almost 70 years ago."  No!  Carmen Miranda?  Two great artists found the road to fame and fortune with one song?  This I had to see and hear, and you should, too:

There she is so pretty, and so happy to entertain.  What a smile, what charisma!  With Carmen Miranda now on the brain, I had to look on YouTube for the original version of a song that I sing to C&D when they are being fussy or we are in the mood for silliness.  Sure enough, I found it.  I sing the song, "Mama yo quiero, Mama yo quiero, Mama, Mama, Mama!  Dash of pepper, dash of pepper, dash of pepper the American way."  If you’ve been in my house for very long you’ve heard it; here is the original version in Portugese, "Mamãe eu quero":

And this is the place I first learned of the song, from a Tom and Jerry cartoon (of all things):

Years later, I still can’t help but laugh. 

Despite a brief childhood, the pain of distance from family and home country, and the long-fought battles of ethnic and cultural ignorance, Carmen Miranda became and remains a cheerful icon even decades after her death.  As artists, she and Dorival Caymmi continue to jazz and dance into our hearts. 

(Um, a little note on YouTube:  Despite the tragic amounts of bandwidth dedicated to grainy music videos, stupid pet tricks, and other neuron-killing material, YouTube sometimes offers, just for the looking, important tidbits of twentieth-century pop culture.  They have been uploaded by some kind person for the love of the subject, and for the rest of us to remember, learn from, and enjoy.  Thanks.)

Houston-Area Brain Injury Online:

HABI-Online.org

"I made a J!" she said.  (Yes, those are paper plates.)

Carmen climbing up the rope structure at River Oaks Elementary all by herself, with Daddy-as-spotter. 

Going down she worked her way down a couple of steps, and then hung from his neck the rest of the way down. 

Meanwhile, David was busy splashing in a large puddle several yards away.  After several minutes of sloshing and jumping, he realized he had gotten soaked-to-the-socks dirty, and needed a shower.  Now.

We washed his legs and feet, and found him a clean pair of socks and shoes in the car.  Figure he won’t always worry about being clean; might as well enjoy it while we can.

It’s an afternoon (and morning, and evening) tradition.  They (usually David) run the water, fill the sink, empty the sink, fill cups, empty cups.  They drop toys in to see if they float or sink.  They pour all my dishwasher soap out to play bubbles. 

But lately their play has been a little more . . . elaborate.

For instance, David likes to practice using the faucet like a water fountain (hem, Daddy). 

The other day he and Carmen filled each side of the sink and dunked their heads in.

Carmen eventually walked, hair dripping, downstairs to get a brush to comb her hair out.  David, thinking one step further, decided he should wash his hair first

and then dunked his hair in the sink to rinse it.

Then they complained that, in our 85-degree F house, they were cold.

David and his binoculars, watching the street.