"I am decorating," Replies El Brato, and proudly shows me a poster of Tupac Shakur in all his shirtless glory, plaid boxer briefs showing prominently under his low slung baggy jeans.
"I don't think so," I say. "We just spent the entire weekend cleaning and redecorating the room. No Tupac Shakur posters allowed here."
"But Mama! It will liven up the room!" Protests el Brato.
"Tupac? The dude is dead!" I reply. "He can't even liven up himself! So no, no Tupac and that's final!"
Undaunted, the boy goes back to his room and returns with yet another poster.
He unfurls it and shoes me a scantily clad lady in a suggestive pose.
"Tila Tequila?" He says. "She is very much alive, I guarantee . . ."
I tell him that no, no Tila Tequila in our family room and that if he wants posters of scantily clad persons of the female persuasion, he can put them up in his room.
He sighs again and returns to his room, where he promptly proceeds to tape his Tila Tequila poster next to his other one of an equally scantily clad Britney Spears.
And no, he is no fan of Brit's music, but he thinks she's hot.
Or at least he thinks that pre-Nutty Brit was hot, and he keeps her there in some sort of a nostalgic memento of childhood crush . . .
Finally, we settle for some College football team banner, which nicely fits the spot in a corner of the family room. Don't ask me which football team, as I can't tell one team from the other. But it looks good, and it makes the Brat happy.
Now, if he can only keep that place clean, this Momma will be very, very happy . . .