Moscatas

Been thinking a lot about children recently.  Maybe it´s due to the fact that i "teach" a hundred or so each day, or that Pontevedra has the highest number of children under the age of eleven in one city per capita in all of Spain.  Seriously.  No wonder I´ve been stumbling over infants and toddlers on razor scooters for the last month.   They´re everywhere.  Fortunately they´re really cute, and well dressed.  People in this city love to shop for their kids.  It´s what they do when they´re not stuffing them with refined sugar or forgiving them for throwing tantrums. You´re luckiest if you end up with twins or, god willing, triplets, because you get to buy disgustingly cute outfits that match.  Sometimes parents buy the matching outfits anyways.  They like to dress their children as though Franco were still calling the shots.  Many parents are slobs, yet their kids look like they´re about to recieve breadpudding for helping grandmother skin the rabbit for dinner.   It gets to be a bit much at times.  Like when I sit in the Plaza Ferreira and watch six thousand pristine two-year olds in britches, maryjanes and handwoven sweaters gag on handfuls of roasted nuts, made of course by grisly looking yokels in berets with portable ovens that looks like old locomotives.   Now if only children under the age of eleven were a form of currency . . then maybe Pontevedra could help the country settle some of its debts.