Mexico

G loves to paint. Every time she gets her hands on paint, she puts paint on her hands. She likes to make hand prints. She can paint for incredibly long periods of time, quiet and peaceful, making an enormous mess.

So, it should have been no surprise when she told me about her ambition to become a painter someday.

“When I grow up, I am going to be a painter,” she proclaimed. “It means that I will have to travel a lot. Even to Mexico.” She paused. “Will you come with me when I travel?” she asked me.

“I would like to do that,” I affirmed.

“Even to Mexico?” she asked, surprised.

“Yes, even to Mexico.”