I had heard about them, but I had hope they would be another myth like sugar rushes. I was wrong, and had my first taste of them today. In one hour little adorable L broke the video player (yes, we still had one of those to watch old movies), ate eight chewing gums (not mine, someone probably dropped them at the party and he kept them hidden somewhere) and broke our coffee table in two parts (it was Ikea, but I still loved it, and they don’t make it anymore). Not kidding, not exaggerating. He survived all the mishaps unharmed, and the nurse said the gum will eventually leave his system. But he could have hurt himself. He is fast and fearless, and I’m desperate. I’m seriously considering sending him to day care at least a morning a week. He will benefit from spending some time with other kids, and I can use one morning a week to tidy the house or iron (that’s another thing about Spaniards, we iron even socks). With luck, I will be able to work. And it will break my heart, because I love him and spending time with him more than anything else in the world. But I tried to play with him today, to read him books, to do something together. It didn’t work, and I realized… he is bored. He is tired of seeing me every single hour of every single day. He needs more independence, he needs to meet new people. I will drown myself in Margaritas tonight.