Stories of Lotería

I walked through the front door of my house not too long ago, after an especially energy-sucking day at work, and was met with a quirky tune from my past. Brass horns and bouncing notes reminiscent of a carnival carousel ride.  Except this one actually took me somewhere. It took me back to five years of age... Walking home with Grandpa Salvador after school - sopa de fideo on the stove - Grandma Elena in her apron - and Chavo del Ocho on the television. The little orphan boy who lived in a barrel and played with the kids from the nearby apartment complex was my daily afternoon entertainment. Never did I wonder how a boy could live in a barrel. Never did I notice that each kid was played by an adult in their 30s or 40s.  All I cared about was in what way Chavo would stick it to that bratty Quico with the blow fish cheeks, or what would make that cry-baby Chilindrina wail this time, or if someday Dona Florinda would actually get Don Ramon to notice her, (but before you think I was