Every December, your husband had a habit of cooking a certain dish with you; Tamales. While the meal was always delectable, the process of making so many was tiring.

With a sigh, you spread the masa on another corn husk. You couldn’t even count how many you had made by now. As you were about to add filling, your husband’s voice echoed from the kitchen.

“¡En la madre!” He cried out, a hiss passing through his teeth. He dropped a bag of tamales on the ground, creating quite the mess.