It's the Husband's birthday. We're at a taqueria. The Son is having a good time eating a gordita and making faces like those of the actors in the novelas on the TV. Suddenly, I notice the Husband's gripping at nothing. I give him a funny look. "I don't have any magic tricks," he says.
"In your pockets?" I inquire.
"No, in my HANDS...I don't feel right without them."
I make a confused grunt.
"I don't have any magic tricks in my hands to mess around with."
"You mean, by not having magic tricks to obsessively play with you feel like you're walking around without any clothes on?"
"Yeah, that's right," he replies.
I just shake my head. Never try to get inside a clown's head.
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