The Promil Kid and the Bottled-up Secret

The oil on the pan was barely heated as I was cooking lunch when I heard two voices coming from one corner of the kitchen. It was my now 8-years old nephew with Min-min, a second cousin and his constant playmate, talking about something that he was preparing.

“Don’t tell anyone, Min-min,” said my nephew in an ironically loud voice. “This is a secret! No one should know.”

“No one should know?” confirmed Min-min.

“No one.”

“Not even Natalia?”

“Not even Natalia.”

“Not even Jericho?”

“Not even Jericho.”

“Not even Stacy?”

“Not even Stacy.”

“Not even Alphonse?”

“Not even ANYONE!!! You can’t tell anyone!”

“Not even Crystal?”

“YOU. CAN’T. TELL. ANYONE!!! ANYONEEE!!! What’s wrong with you?”

“OK! I won’t tell anyone.”

With that, my 8-year old nephew twisted the lid shut, shook his milk bottle, and began drinking his milk. After a few seconds of sucking milk from the bottle, he put it down and said one more thing:

“Don’t tell anyone.”


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