When I blogged about the many uses of chanclas, I mentioned that Carlos goes “mosca” hunting with the kids. He can’t stand when flies get into the house and when he spots one, he demands that everyone work together to kill it immediately.
(From the original post): I hear it multiple times per week in the summertime: “There’s a fly in the house! Get a chancla!” … Maybe my husband and kids are weird, but they go fly hunting. They wait until it goes into a bedroom and then the commotion starts, “She’s in your room! Close the door! Quick!” (For some reason my husband always refers to flies as “she”. I guess because the word for fly, “mosca”, is feminine.) … Sometimes the hunt can go on for a good 20 minutes. I’ll hear the chancla hit the wall with varying degrees of force. Sometimes the fly’s escape will be blamed on one of the children, (“You were in my way! I almost got it that time! Move!) and finally, the much awaited killing occurs with much celebration.
Well, last night, while I cleaned up the dinner dishes, someone opened the door and let a mosca in. Predictably, the hunt began so I set up a hidden camera so you could see, I’m not exaggerating in the least. Here is a fairly normal evening with the López family. (Apologies in advance for the generous view of my cleavage. I had taken the boys to the pool earlier and hadn’t changed my clothes.)