I am five years old in this memory. It is the night of a local summer festival. After dinner, my mother has left home to help out a few things at the festival. My father, my little brother and I are sitting by the open window of our tiny half-dilapidated apartment. The sound of the drum is echoing from the festival. It excites me.
“The festival started, Daddy?” I ask my father eagerly.
“It sure did, Sweetie. Your mother is already there.”
We all listen to the sound of the drum together. Suddenly, it feels so special that I am sitting here with my father and that he is sharing the same moment with me, hearing the same sound.
“We will be joining her soon. We will go to the festival after some time,” says my father.
“But maybe, we don’t have to go!” My face lights up. “We are here happy just fine. Mommy can enjoy the festival alone!”
My father does not understand why all of a sudden, I have changed my mind. Just a moment ago, I was so excited to go to the festival.
“See, Daddy, we are a team,” I continue eagerly. “You two and me are together. Mommy is different. She has boobies. We don’t. We are no-boobies team!”
That moment, my father bursts into laughter.
“No-boobies team…”
I don’t understand what is so funny about the naming since I only stated the obvious. But I am satisfied to see my father laughing anyway.
“Hurray, we are the no-boobies team!”
My little brother and I repeat it many times until finally my father says that is enough and it is time for us to go to the festival.