A calf called Tony

‘So there we are, my husband Florencio and I, each hanging onto a foreleg, and we’re yelling to the cow “One, two, three – push!” And I swear she heard us: she pushed as we pulled, and out he came.’
A moment of distraction: ‘Your gusanitos are too fat: your flowers won’t be as delicate.’
‘So I like them fat.’
‘You like them fat?!’ (Guffaw of laughter.)
‘My gusanitos, I like them fat. They make nice fat flowers.’
‘Oh, only the gusanitos?!’  (More laughter.)
‘So what’s the cow called?’
‘Flor – flower.’
‘And the calf?’
‘Tony.’
‘Tony??! …Not even gusanito?’
‘He was named for his father. But okay, we’ll rename him gusanito; but you have to be the godmother.’
‘Deal!’
‘So you need to keep the tension up on those stitches: like this…’

'Okay, okay...!'