A Mexican kid, maybe ten, came into the bar.
Next time you see some Mexican kid, you ought to bounce a rock off his head.
He got some Mexican kids to do the painting out front.
The Mexican kid was great, he kept trying.
But with Mexican kids you could do whatever you wanted.
She sent a Mexican kid in to call me out.
Meanwhile, the Mexican kid stood there and grinned at me, leaning on his cue stick.
He glanced at the Mexican kid who was eavesdropping shamelessly.
Did he think a 23-year-old beautiful girl like that, an educated teacher, would look at a 17-year- old Mexican kid from the slums?
We walked along the beach getting our feet wet listening to the little Mexican kids squealing with delight.