Cold soup

He sits beside me with legs crossed. He screams, attempting to will the Thrashers to victory even though they're down by two. His freshly cut hair hovers above his head, which he delicately caresses - he's had surgery on his nose recently. Sometimes I forget this, like when I was throwing him the stuffed football and almost hit his face.

But what interests me most is not the newly fixed nose, that allows 21% oxygen to surge up his newly unclogged nostrils and fill his lungs with what most of us know as life. It's what sits BELOW the nares... it's the rough patch of hair that perks forward. It's Sameer's moustache.

And, folks, it's not just any moustache. Like some people name their pets, like some people name their cars, like some people name their toes, Sameer has chosen to name his moustache (Ok, so people don't really name their toes... but whatever!). And what has he named it? Rover, you say? Spot? Alex? Yosef? Jon-Benet? No. It's named Gazpacho. I reference it as "it," but in all honesty, I'm unaware of what gender has been attached to this name, but it sounds masculine...?

To Sameer's defense, and I quote: "I did it before Sanjaya."