La Pequeña Lulu Y Mafalda Exclusive Site
"No, but it’s a ceasefire." Lulú pulled out a bag of marbles. "We’ll invite the boy next door who pulls girls’ hair. You’ll beat him at marbles. He’ll respect you. Then you’ll tell him war is stupid. He’ll listen because you won."
"My mother insists it has vitamins," Mafalda whispered dramatically. "But I suspect it's a punishment for asking where wars come from." la pequeña lulu y mafalda
Lulú laughed. "And you’re not just a grump. You care. That’s nice, even if it gives you wrinkles." "No, but it’s a ceasefire
"Yep," Lulú said. "It’s called strategy . You worry about the big picture. I fix the little messes." He’ll respect you
Mafalda touched her forehead in alarm. "Wrinkles? At six? Oh no. That’s it. I’m forming a union against premature aging."
It was a gray Buenos Aires afternoon. Mafalda sat on her favorite park bench, hugging her knees, watching a line of ants with deep concern.
"This ant is carrying a crumb three times its size," she murmured. "It's the working class's silent struggle. And no one sings about it... except maybe the Beatles, if they wrote songs about ants."
"No, but it’s a ceasefire." Lulú pulled out a bag of marbles. "We’ll invite the boy next door who pulls girls’ hair. You’ll beat him at marbles. He’ll respect you. Then you’ll tell him war is stupid. He’ll listen because you won."
"My mother insists it has vitamins," Mafalda whispered dramatically. "But I suspect it's a punishment for asking where wars come from."
Lulú laughed. "And you’re not just a grump. You care. That’s nice, even if it gives you wrinkles."
"Yep," Lulú said. "It’s called strategy . You worry about the big picture. I fix the little messes."
Mafalda touched her forehead in alarm. "Wrinkles? At six? Oh no. That’s it. I’m forming a union against premature aging."
It was a gray Buenos Aires afternoon. Mafalda sat on her favorite park bench, hugging her knees, watching a line of ants with deep concern.
"This ant is carrying a crumb three times its size," she murmured. "It's the working class's silent struggle. And no one sings about it... except maybe the Beatles, if they wrote songs about ants."