Most of the time, he throws himself into the action with enthusiasm, and is received the same way. When it occasionally becomes a bit overwhelming, he claims my body as his all-purpose home away from home. His food source, his chaise lounge, his camel, his human security blanket. When he's in that mood, I just tie him on my hip with a woven Oaxacan shawl, positioning him with his mouth directly in line for la leche. Chi-chi, they call it down here.
Baby wants cheech.
Turista in third-world diapers In Puerto Angel, we stay at a beautiful posada hidden in a shady canyon, with pure water from a spring, delicious vegetarian food, interesting fellow guests on the patio. Hayes has recovered from his fever and is ready for the beach. For three days, the red shovel never leaves his hand. I come back to the palapa with sodas and find him and his father snoozing side by side in a hammock. He picks up a special shell, carries it around for hours, then drops it to embrace a skinny beach dog.