Walking from my office to town, I have to pass by Valenciana's Pizza, a small, family-run business in Ajijic, proudly competing with the teenage motorcycle gang at Domino's. Even if I'm not hungry, I usually stop by in the afternoons to visit one of my favorite little people, Adriana Pinto Ramos, owner Juan Carlos Romero's 18-month old toddler. Whatever her humor, the "Pizza Baby" never fails to brighten my day.
Adriana is a 2-• foot kewpie doll composed mostly of cheeks; her little face is almost completely square. She walks and waves like a dashboard ornament, like a Mexican Betty Boop. Her hair is usually pulled up in two sprigs with colored elastics, and they bounce when she shakes her head. She staggers around the shop with her bottle like an old man that just got off his horse, part cherub, part Napoleon. She has spirit, that's for sure.
When I walk into the pizzeria she is likely to hide behind the counter, which is her safety zone. She naps on her own shelf there with her baby brother, Abraham, like pantry bunk beds. The first time their mother, Claudia Ramos, showed me the two of them napping I laughed out loud. It made perfect sense though; they each had a shelf, tucked away from the direct light with the white hum from the refrigerator and the warm pizza oven keeping them snug. Imagine being raised in a shop where you have the smell of baking bread all day long. If the shelf were any larger, I would curl up myself!
The Pizza Baby has grown somewhat used to me. She understands that the sounds in my name somehow refer to a specific person she then recognizes as me . This does not keep her from running behind the counter when I come in. Depending on her mood, she will choose to avoid or interact. On several occasions, this involved hearty peels of unexplained laughter, which Adriana belted out much to the amusement of her parents and me. This kid is not a giggler; she can knock a person down with her laugh, which makes us laugh, which makes her laugh even louder. Adriana bubbles.
Once I sit down, she will make eye contact. I've seen her with a bottle more times than not, and she doesn't want to talk much when that's going on. She staggers from behind the counter though, and might sneak up behind me while her father and I are talking. She likes to look at me when she thinks I can't see her. When I turn around she is usually smiling around her bottle, shaking her curls, balancing. When I talk to her she swaggers back behind the counter and starts over. Sometimes she'll lie down on her shelf, which she now knows I call her "cuarto" (room), and enjoys her bottle without having anything further to do with visitors.
I never stay very long, usually because it's in the middle of my workday, but these visits never fail to perk me up. The Pizza Baby is one of the stops I make, not to sell advertising or collect, but because besides liking her folks (and their pizza), Adriana is a friend of mine, and I kind of like the idea of somebody growing up in a pizza parlor, and imagining how seems through her eyes, and at her height, teething on pizza crusts and snacking on toppings. And imagine the smells: dough rising, baking with the sauce, ingredients and cheese. Adriana is going to be one of the few Mexican adults with Italian comfort foods!
If I have time to eat in the restaurant, Adriana will demand a plate and some thing to nibble on (last time it was Fud hot dogs and pineapple bits) and we sit there rolling our eyes, chewing. I can usually finish most of the pizza myself; Adriana, I've found, is partial to crust and pepperoni.
