I guess the Terrible Twos is a universal, culture-independent phenomenon, but the Guaraní version is special. Babies are usually quiet and happy until their second birthdays. Sometime early that morning they start crying, and they cry and they cry, and they keep on crying for 365.24 days. Their volume and virtuosity (warbles, trills, staccato breathing) increase without limit towards the epitome of agonized sorrow. I've never seen a parent reward their efforts in any way, but I've never seen a two-year-old take a break or quit early. The day they turn three, Guaraní kids become quiet and happy again, and no matter what happens (and I've seen kids stumble over cliffs and do full face-plants among sharp rocks) they never cry again.

But even in a community of lamentation virtuosos, Isabel and Crucito's son, Erasmo, stood out for crying. I used to farm a plot about 200 meters from their house, and I listened to Erasmo all day, every day. One day I finally said to Don Crucito, "That Erasmo has some lungs on him. I never knew anyone could cry that loud, or that long." And Cruz looked at me and smiled, like the proud father he is, and said, "Yeah. He's going to be a politician."