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THAT’S BARRIO: Lil’ Homie Dad for a Day

May 29, 2010

When I was little, I jumped in the shopping cart with the family dirty clothes, soap, Clorox, my two brothers and my grandmother—she liked to ride up front and stand like that old lady from the Titanic—my mother would push us to the Laundromat.

I was embarrassed and didn’t want anybody to see me so I disguised myself in my father’s dirty clothes.

“Mijo,” my mother said to me, “Make sure your grandmother doesn’t fall over.”

“Shut up, mujer!  You don’t tell me what to do!”

THUMP!  She whacked me with the Clorox container.

I guess my father’s clothes didn’t fool her.

My older brother tried to take my little brother’s marbles.

“Leave him alone or I’m gonna take off my belt and whoop your little a$$!” I warned my older brother while making sure he seen my father’s name tag on my shirt.

My brother punched me in the face.  I fell back and knocked my grandmother onto the street.

The name tag didn’t work.

“Mijo, look what you did!” my mother shouted.

“I didn’t do it!  Dad did it!” I said.

THUMP!  She whacked me with the soap box.

A car zipped towards my grandmother…she was gonna get run over if someone didn’t act quickly.

I flew out the shopping cart and watched the car run her over from up close.

“Mijo!  Why didn’t you move her?!” My mother cried out, “Your father would’ve moved her.”

“I ain’t my father.”


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