Today was a nice sunny day in Columbus. Nothing better than a sunny day with blue sky with some clouds here and there. the cold breeze comes filled with energy. Ah ! .. i wish it was like this all year long.

we were tossing a Frisbee next to the parking lot. It was fun and felt good to jump and run around a little. A little boy popped out of no where with a bottle that had a firefly called Max. The kid asked me if he could play with us and i said ok. I asked him about his name but his answer wasn't clear. He told me it consists of five letters. He was 7 years old, 4 ft tall with a short, spiky hair. I could tell that he was having fun, although he sucked in tossing the Frisbee. He told me that he enjoys sports and he likes "the game mexicans play". I was confused, he read that on my face and told me : "the game that they kick the ball and hit it with their heads". I knew he meant Football, or what he would call Soccer. A friend of mine got his football out of the house, which was very close, and we started passing it around.

The kid with the five letters name asked me if we were Mexicans. I told him no, and explained that we were speaking Arabic. He didn't have any idea what that meant, he just knew that it wasn't Spanish. He then shouted " You Guys are awesome !", we all laughed.
When we got tired, we sat on the pavement side and got some Pepsi and fireworks to play with. That seriously impressed the kid. he asked us if we can wake up early to play with him.

It was getting dark and we don't know where the kid's house was. I asked him about his parents. "Mom is home" he said, " Dad hates mexicans". That was interesting. I asked him why. he said "Some mexicans are good. My dad kills mexicans, he hates them. " I didn't know if i should tell him that killing people was wrong, i did it anyways. I told him that Mexicans are humans just like us, we don't want people to hate us and kill us. I dunno if he understood anything i said. My friend asked "so, where is ur father now ?".

"He's in Jail. Some people were angry and came to our house" the kid said.
" who took him ?"
" i don't know, but i think they're cops, i hate cops"
"why?"
"they're mean. they came to our house and kept yelling"
"Maybe your father did something wrong. Cops don't like bad people."
"I can burp my name, wanna see ?"

I asked him to go home and come back tomorrow to play with us. He was disappointed and walked away with his bottle very slowly.

I don't know why i wrote about this. I just thought it would be an interesting story to tell and think about. I hope he doesn't grow up to be like his father. i don't know if he arrived home safely. "I have a map drawn in my head" he told us, so he should be ok with his map. :) smart kid, i liked him.

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