Cry Baby Christmas

Brazilians are emotional people.  If you watch the nightly news, the response to eight out of ten questions posed to eye witnesses on the street involves the words 'tanta emoção' (it's just so emotional).  It's how Brazilians feel after a disaster, a miracle or a slice of pizza. 

On Friday, Mr Becoming and his work colleagues had their Christmas day out, and what did all these big tough guys get together to do?  Weep.  Yes, they wept at the emotion of it all.  At one point, each manager had a personal letter, written by one of their nearest and dearest, read aloud to the assembled team.  The managers had to identify themselves from these letters, in which their wives and children waxed lyrical about how much they loved and couldn't live them.  It turned into a sob-fest, as each person, identifying themselves from their eulogy, would well-up with tears.  The person who was reading out the letters choked and passed the mike to his neighbour, hilariously blubbing "I might be in security, but I also have a degree in architecture" by means of an explanation.  Even the interpreter,  simultaneously translating the goings-on for the benefit of a few perplexed Canadians, had a breakdown.

Of course I had to compose a letter of my own for Mr Becoming.  Since I didn't remotely understand what I was supposed to be doing,  he ended up having with something more akin to a letter of complaint; that he didn't talk much, didn't trust anyone and worked too much. Oh well, at least I saved him of the indignity of crying in front of a crowd.

For my part, I might be more Brazilian than I think: I teared-up myself when I went to get the kids from school on Friday.  School was breaking up for the long summer holidays.  I'm not sure if I was emotional on the behalf of the kids, who were having to say goodbye to their beloved teachers, or on my own behalf, at the thought of actually having to parent my children for eight straight weeks.  Either way; "tanta emoção".