Oranges!
No seas orgulloso, ven a saludar…
I hated these words. Every time people would come over they’d make me come out, smile, shake their hand, answer a few questions, and sit in the living room with them. To be amable, what one should always be…aside from humilde.
I really couldn’t have cared less to be either.
Yeah I’d hear my own name being called from the living room, first in speaking tone, then progressively louder, until it was a full-fledged yell, but the last thing I wanted to do was acknowledge any recognition. I was asleep, taking a shower, listening to music, reading a book, doing homework, anything to not have to come out. But then, there’d come my brothers and sisters hurry up, they’re calling you…you’re not asleep, stop acting…I’m going to tell mom…APA!! The latter would send me racing into the living room with my best fake smile on my face. ¿Apoco este es Juanito? ¡Qué gordo se está poniendo! ¿Pues que come Juanito?
At these questions I’d smile and say nothing. Just sit down and wait to be dismissed…or for the first opportunity to make a run for it, usually pretending to be called by one of my siblings in the next room: Huh? I’m coming. Hold on real quick…horita vengo!
It wasn’t anything personal, or even that I wanted to be sangron or orgulloso, just that hearing other people say what was already in my own head was uncomfortable and embarrassing.
Eventually, though, I figured it out. I didn’t have to come out if I didn’t want to, what was said to me didn’t have to be taken a pecho all of the time, and if I wanted to I could be as much of a smart ass as the next kid. The funny thing is after I figured this out I didn’t have to hide myself away anymore. No seas orgulloso, ven a saludar, now I’m the one saying this.
¡Naranjas!
This post is dedicated to my friend @customcreative who shared this colorful dicho with me, from her own family’s usage of refranes y dichos. Here it is meant as an expression of exclamation.
My sisters and I were also called out to sit and be polite for relatives, etc, when we were little. Like you, I often tried to avoid it.
Now, I do the same to my poor kids. The boys are called out in the same way so we can talk about how much they’ve grown and how handsome they are, but no one better call them gorditos if they know what’s good for them!
Even though I inflict the same torture on my boys by making them greet company, remembering how boring it is for them, I’m mindful of “releasing them back to the wild” as soon as I can 😉
I don’t think my parents meant any harm in all honesty, they were just trying to make us humble and simple people…which ultimately I think they succeeded in. That’s my motivation for doing it now anyway, and I will have to remember to hold and release more often.
It was instances like this that lead to me thinking that my middle name was Muchacho Cabron, thanks to my parents and aunts.