Backhoes are boring

While Jon and the big kids were out gallivanting around Spain, Seth and I stuck closer to home. I figured “why spend a couple hundred Euro to go to Salamanca when all Seth’d want to do is watch backhoes and we have them for free here in Alcobendas?”

As some background, Seth has had an obsession with backhoes for the last 24 months. While in Arlington, I often plan my jogging routes around the location of construction sites and roadwork (made easier this summer after the town finally decided to fix the gas leak that’s made our neighborhood/park/school whiffy for the past several years). I’ve also been known, while caring for him on his days off from school, to bring my iPhone and conduct business while he’s gazing at backhoes. Seriously, he can watch for almost an hour without growing tired of it.

However, since moving Seth has gone to school five days a week, leaving precious little time to view backhoes. So we look forward to Jewish holidays because they give us an opportunity to get out and check around Alcobendas for construction sites.

The morning of Yom Kippur, however, Seth woke and practically the first words out of his mouth were “Backhoes are boring.” He also rejected his velour “lovey shirt” – called this because he will often stroke the shirt and say “This shirt loooove me.” The end of an era. The end of this particular era left us 48 hours to kill.

So we just spent Friday meandering around San Sebastian and la Moraleja, enjoying the “fall” (low 70s) weather and stopping at a yummy cafeteria for pork sandwich (yes, I know it was Yom Kippur! Sorry!) lunch. We also visited every park we saw, even hopping off our $1.50 bus tour of la Moraleja at a park down in that section of Alcobendas.

As I’ve mentioned to some of you, la Moraleja is the Beverly Hills of Madrid. Here’s my observations of life at this park at 6 PM on a Friday:

- 2 French mothers, dressed to kill

- 6 nannies, most likely hailing from Central/South America, dressed in work scrubs (many nannies here wear uniforms)

- 1 long-haired Spanish-Asian man with a gorgeous tattoo, caring for three blonde kids

- Roughly 15 other blonde children

o Girls in pinafore dresses or school skirts

o Boys in shorts and collared shirts

I fit right in in my 15-year-old ripped shirt and accidentally-bleached-while-cleaning-the-tub shorts. Europeans seem adept at interpreting my clothing habits as “Badly dressed, thus American.” Often, folks will just start speaking English to me even before I open my mouth. The dress-up is actually even worse at the kids’ school (also in la Moraleja), where many of the Moms apparently get their hair done and don sheaths and pumps in order to pick up their kids from school.

On Saturday, we had to cancel a planned visit with the cousins because Seth woke up with a fever. He seems mostly better today.

As Jon mentioned, the kids are speaking more and more Spanish now. I got chewed out by Nora at lunch for using “sus” instead of “tus,” and Seth took it upon himself to quiz Nathan in how to say certain Spanish words.

Finally, a picture of Seth in “handsocks” – all the rage in the Starhill household. It's entirely logical. If you need socks for your feet, why not for your hands?