¡Viva la Revolución!

I came home today to find the words "Viva Mexico" written in hot pink chalk on my neighbors driveway in what I'm assuming is the handwriting of the little girl that lives next door. Should I be worrying about a revolución? All I know is: I'm not gonna underestimate her. First generation kids of Mexican Immigrant parents pack quite the punch. They unfairly end up with two native languages (usually speaking Spanish scary fast), play soccer hella-well which equals the foot speed of a raptor, and can swing a stick at a piñata or your head with deadly precision and strength. If they decide to fight back or just fight we're goners.

So, what do I do? In the words of Jack Donaghy: "Be an American. Call it in."

Or maybe I'll sleep on it. In the meantime: ¡Viva Mexico!