the Franco years

This is Franco, my little buddy.  I lived in his house during my first four months in site.  He is what grandparents would probably refer to as "a little stinker."  Around here, he's just travieso.  In fact, he once threw a rotten tomato at me.  However, at the end of the day, I can't help but love the little guy.  We have a lot of fun playing soccer, and I appreciate his imagination.  I went over to their house for dinner last night, and he held up a tortilla, told me it was his motorcycle, and started zooming it around the table.  He also once played soccer with a plastic coke bottle.  Sometimes the armchair psychologist in me thinks that some of his meanness is from separation issues, because his father has been in the United States for pretty much his whole life.