Begin to fantasise about buying a house here. After all, houses at home have got so expensive that the amount we would have to pay for a small pad here would hardly be noticed in the big scheme of things, and we could always rent it out to extranjeros.
Take Daisy over to Mariet and Enrique’s for the evening. Mariet is making cakes and two year old Itamar is merrily sticking her fingers in the icing, so we take her out for a run in a bid to calm her down.
It’s two minutes walk from their house to a football field with water around it, and suddenly it feels like we could be in England on any autumn afternoon, taking a friend’s kid for a walk. Itamar is distinctly lively (Mariet keeps insisting that she was much like Daisy when she was younger), so we play chase, run around and generally play the fool.
When we return, Mariet is attempting to ice cakes with one hand and carry Daisy with the other. Apparently our daughter was not happy with Conche, Mariet’s Mum, which seems to have hurt her grandmotherly pride a little. Mind you, since Conche’s childminding style appears to involve wrapping any child in a shawl and bashing it on the bottom, I can’t say I am entirely surprised.
We finish the evening with tacos and (unsurprisingly) Coca Cola. I could get used to this. Maybe I am becoming un poco Mexicana after all.
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