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After a couple hours of this, seven-year-old Christo was beside himself. He had never been babysat before. How long was this fuckery going to go on? His sister was hysterical. He paced around our living room, now in his shirtsleeves and black pants. Pulling his golden curls nervously, he looked like the night manager of a miniature diner who had just had a party of six dine and dash. He ranted to his baby sister in Greek, ", vreh Mapia!" This sent my mother running into thedining room laughing hysterically. I chased her. What? What did he say? Roughly translated it was "Oh!My Maria! What is to become of us?"

His overdramatic ridiculousness tickled my mom in such a specific way that she was doubled over in the dining room, hoping the kids wouldn't see that she was laughing so hard at them she peed a little. A phenomenon I now understand on all levels.

They were going to be fine, but they couldn't possibly believe it.

That must have been what I looked like to my doctor friend. That must be what I look like to anyone with a real problem-active-duty soldier, homeless person, Chilean miner, etc. A little tiny person with nothing to worry about running in circles, worried out of her mind.

Either way, everything will be fine. But if you have an opinion, please feel free to offer it to me through the gap in the door of a public restroom. Everyone else does.

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