Caliente!

Last week, while both Daddy and Grammy were enjoying themselves in the wonderfully fantastic nonhumid California southland, mommy had a mad taco craving. So the Boo and I hit up yet another immeasureably inferior "Mexican" eatery in Atlanta. Clearly, no one in this state has ever travelled beyond them thar Rockies, as you would not believe what passes as "authentic" Mexican fare here. I cannot tell you how many times I've walked into what looked like a promising establishment and then had my request for an agua fresca met with a "Huh"? One dude, upon education of this most delicious and refreshing bevarage, even said he was surprised that I knew how to pronounce such a thing. Calgon, take me away....

Anyhow, to sum it up, while waiting for my off-brand tacos Lila insisted via grunts and gestures that she sample the salsa. I offered the bowl to her, figuring one taste and she'd never ask for the stuff again. Much to my surprise she happily began to chow down. I couldn't believe my eyes--who knew toddlers liked spicy food? And then, moments later, it appeared she had reached some sort of effective dose--the poor thing starts whining and panting like a dog! An 8oz drink box of soymilk and a half dozed ice cubes later however, I'm happy to report our girl made a full recovery. And mommy learned her lesson: no mas salsa.