by Aunt Amy 5-26-15
“Want to play basketball in my room?”
So Max & I went upstairs to his room to play the basketball game “pig” on the hoop that hung on the inside of his bedroom door.
“I have a p-i?” Max asked several minutes into the game.
“No, you actually have p-i-g,” I corrected the youngster as we enjoyed playing together – just the 2 of us, which is a gigantic rarity – all afternoon. “Why don’t we use a longer name?”
Our game then turned from three letters into playing with the letters in Maxwell plus 2 middle names, 1 of which he made up, & his last name. Enjoyment also arose playing a question & answer game about which animal we were thinking of, as well as while we drank the rest of the refreshing homemade frappuccino beverage his mom made.
“Ahhh!” he shrieked as he poured some into a glass for himself & nearly overflowed his cup. I stepped in to help.
“Let’s shoot the breeze,” I replied after Maxwell wanted to continue playing as we sipped our fraps.
“Shoot the weez?”
“No, I’m saying ‘breeze’ like the wind,” I explained, relishing another opportunity to share knowledge with a little one. “It’s just another way of saying talking, chatting, discussing.”
“I tell kids in school ‘heck’ is a bad word when they say it,” Max told me. “Is ‘heck’ a bad word?”
“Sometimes some words are bad to say in some families but fine for others,” I tried my best to explain. “The parents decide.” That was met with a satisfactory nod. Phew! Chalk 1 up for Aunt Amy.
Next our afternoon of fun traveled to the toy-filled basement.
We pretended the wide assortment of real-looking plastic food before us, including a green pear & red apple, was in fact the real thing. I wasn’t prepared, but shouldn’t have been shocked, to hear my courteous young nephew’s response to me. (Hats off to his parents for raising the epitome of a growing gentleman.)
“The apple pie is ready,” I announced while placing the dish between us.
The boy three days shy of celebrating his sixth birthday couldn’t have been any more ANTI-chauvinistic if he tried.
“Ladies first,” Maxwell declared charmingly. “Because I know that.”
THE END . . . Almost: