Día de Muertos

Yesterday was el Dia de Muertos, and I got a little calavera!


When I was younger, every November I asked my mom to buy me one, and each time she would refuse because, according to her, I would never actually eat them and would end up just making a sugar mess of myself. Only, after lots of whining, puppy eyes, and promises on my cleanness and maturity, she would eventually get it. Of course, la calaverita would sooner or later end up as broken as my promises.

This year, I’m proud to report, didn’t end up making a mess, so if you don’t count the smudges of paint of my hands, I’m pretty clean. I still won’t eat it though.

I don’t think I ever wanted calaveras for the taste, but I think there’s something cool about having your name on a cute little skull. I mean, yeah, I know they are supposed to represent the dead person you are celebrating, but my little morbid self is content with getting a skull of her own.


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