“Close – But Not Really”

“Why are you a Gummy Bear?”

“Because I’m so sweet?”

“Because you’re so sweet!” confirmed his mother whose son’s nickname is Bear. Minutes earlier before the “sweet” car ride, my niece, nephew & I played Legos in the boys’ bedroom him & his third-grade brother share.

The 2 16oz. mugs of coffee I drank before coming to my sister’s house caused multiple trips to the bathroom. Just like a previous time, my nephew of 4 busted unannounced & uninvited in the door. What person in their right mind wants company in the john?

“I sawed yo’ nipple!” cried the intruder. Not quite, Gummy Bear, who has a lifetime of learning ahead of him. Buckling my belt with my long shirt barely raised during the quick process actually exposed my – oh, no! – belly button. Nice try. Four hundred percent do NOT like the path where this is heading . . . Quick, change topic.

Throughout my time at his house, while his 2 older siblings worked on schoolwork & his younger sister fulfilled the role of our tagalong playmate by trailing us wherever we happened to roam, he again like many times in the past, inquired about Me. The Enigma of his Aunt Amy.

Subjects the boy before brought up include

1. l must still be a kid even though I say I’m an adult because my parents & I share a roof;

2. Why my mouth is dry because he says his mouth is wet; &

3. How I don’t have any hair on my head yet I’m still a girl.

Today’s topic of inquiry zeroed in on the cane I am forced to grip ALL THE TIME for safe stepping. Dang that neurotoxicity on my brain stem causing total imbalance. How I hate that permanent stick by my left side! Anyways, my very young nephew wondered aloud again why I use it, never previously receiving a satisfactory answer, I suppose.

“Most people don’t need canes, just some people.” That’s me again attempting to get through to his inquisitive mind.

I give the little guy credit for always seeking – but not necessarily uncovering – the truth. The 4-year-old took a shot in the semi-dark about why people use canes after taking into account what he already knows about me.

Oh, I love the way his mind works to amuse.

“So if you’re bald you need them?”

The End

Our Treasured Tagalong

By Aunt Amy

3-15-18

 

“Is that you, Peter Pan?”

By Aunt Amy

March 5, 2016

“‘Relax Mom, I already know the bad words,'” quoted the boy with the marvelous memory. “‘Darn, booger & Donald Trump.'”

A comical comment repeated verbatim from the Netflix comeback show “Fuller House.” Boy, was it fun to hang out with Max! Always something new.

Earlier interaction while sifting through mounds of stickers – from my thousands-plus collection I’ve kept & added on to since childhood – in my bedroom:

“Does a phone cost $200?”

“Well, phones can cost a lot less than that,” I explained to my nephew of 6. “But you have to pay every month to use it.”

I welcomed the opportunity in this teaching moment to further explain to the little fella that a house also continually costs money.

“You have to pay every month for things in a house like electricity & water.”

While speaking I tried to downplay the seriousness of owning a home & the huge responsibility it brings, not wanting to overwhelm the child. But by my nephew’s words that followed, I don’t think my tactics were effective in the least. After hearing that both a phone & then a home, too, cost money on a regular basis, growing up into an adult was not as appealing as before our conversation.

“God, please make me a kid forever,” he prayed aloud barely a second after the conclusion of my brief dialogue. “Thank you.”

The End

“Keep It Down”

“Cha cha cha!” he enthusiastically inserted after each line of the “Happy Birthday To You” tune that I sang to him, per his request, despite his birthday being five months away. 

The youngster obviously just wanted a chance to share his fresh knowledge, “cha cha cha-ing” his way through the cheerful jingle. How sweet! I always love hearing the latest joke, song, or other information any of my young nephews recently picked up. 

The 5-year-old switched next to one of his favorite subjects, naming different karate tools whose names I don’t even know. I went online as I wrote this very story to ensure I’m both repeating and spelling the items Maxwell mentioned correctly. For instance, I learned a bo staff is a martial arts defense weapon. “Bō technique includes a wide variety of blocks, strikes, sweeps, and entrapments.” The magic of google also taught me “the naginata is one of several varieties of traditionally made Japanese blades” and “consists of a wooden shaft with a curved blade on the end.” 

Max then proceeded to divulge a comment that through his careful actions, told me he thought he was violating some kind of unwritten family code never to speak ill of another family member’s personal skills. 

In a hushed tone, as if he were feeling a tinge of all-too-real guilt for spilling his little secret, the boy whispered about his instructor: 

“Master Kyle can do a bo staff faster than my Dad.”

 

THE END

 

“I Swear to Tell the Truth . . .”

            “Amy, my mom hits some button and then I see my name,” my 4-year-old and often blunt nephew told me on the way to church 13 days before most of the nation lapses into its annual Turkey Coma.

The little boy sat behind me in his Grandma’s navy blue Buick Regal. His family and mine both attended the place of worship where I was on my way as a volunteer to stuff church bulletins.

As is the case in a lot of conversations with small children, I had not the slightest clue what he was talking about. I made some agreeable comment like “That’s cool” while his younger sister sucked contentedly on her pacy two seats away from him in her car seat.

During the brief car ride his well-intended Grandma popped a tape of children’s cheerful Bible songs into the cassette player, despite having been forewarned by me that her grandson is used to listening to more rocky songs with a beat while riding in his mom’s white Suburban. To her credit, she took a commendable stab at providing listening enjoyment for all passengers.

This time around the preschooler’s dialogue left no one in doubt.

“Do you like this song?” asked his Grandma eagerly, wanting very much so to bring happiness to the ears of her second youngest grandson.

All efforts at feigning pleasure merely to appease his dear and doting Grandma were hopelessly lost on the very young boy. To his credit, honesty is said to be the best policy.

“Um … I think I don’t.” 

            THE END

 

Lights Out

Today’s 3 young story subjects

 “Can we make cookies?” Max eagerly asked his busy with-lots-always-on-her-mind Grandma as he sat at the kitchen table with his bowl of lentil vegetable soup.

“Right now I’m making Grandpa some chili,” she replied. “Maybe later.”

When the white glass bowls of soup were consumed by the 5-year-old and his two younger siblings, activity resumed. Any onlooker peering in would’ve seen clearly a lot going on, a sort of controlled chaos if you will.

Three-year-old Penelope was playing with her toys in one room of the house, while Harrison at 14 months was content on a continual exploring expedition as he happily rambled to every nook and cranny he could find.

Max took a brief bathroom break from the game of knights in which he took great delight. Luckily the brave boy wasn’t fazed in the least by the quandary that ensued:

“Grandma!” he called from where he sat, possibly to inform her of his whereabouts.

After checking on her grandson to make sure he was all right, doting Grandma out of habit automatically flicked the switch while exiting the bathroom to return to her bustling house.

A few seconds had yet to pass before a singsong voice rang out, “Grandma! Grandma! It’s dark in here!”

THE END

 

 

Amusing Nephew X2

This story’s about the boy I’m hugging on the left.

(Written 3-3-10)

My oldest sister’s blue Durango held all of her sons and me in the Kohl’s parking lot while she was in the store making purchases. All three boys were unstrapped and roaming inside the vehicle.

            My oldest nephew and I talked about toys like airplanes and automobiles (which I told him was another word for car because he had to show a toy beginning with the letter “A” for Show and Tell at school the next day) while the youngest one scampered between the front seats and used me as a human jungle gym.

Then I was offered some candy. (The two oldest boys’ consistent knack for sharing no doubt reflects their excellent upbringing.)

            “Amy, here’s a Now ‘N Later,” said my oldest nephew as he passed me a square yellow treat.

The middle child wanted to make sure he was not left out of his older brother’s generosity. No self-respecting young person would miss an opportunity for sugar. He referred to the candy by the name he thought it was called as he wedged himself in between his eldest brother and me.

            “I want an alligator,” he insisted. 

            But wait, there’s more!

         Soon after, all of us, including my sister and a few bags containing Kohl’s goodies, drove to her son’s preschool to eat lunch inside at wooden tables before school began.

            “Mommy, I have to pee,” the middle child informed his mother.

            “I’ll take him,” I offered. “I have to go, too.”

            So there it was. What can happen during a simple trip to the bathroom?

            Once I was ready to focus my full attention on helping my nephew relieve himself, he said, “I need to take my dooes off. And my pants.”  What?!

My mind flashed back to Jason Alexander’s character on the long-running (from 1989-1998) legendary sitcom Seinfeld. George Costanza paid his personal water bill only after removing every article of clothing covering this described by some as a “short, stocky, slow-witted bald man.”

            So I tugged off his blue boots. He wiggled out of his warm-up pants next. The whole time in the bathroom, he kept his treasured box of Juicy Fruit gum within either eyesight or reach when he wasn’t physically clutching his prize.

            Underwear came next. Once they were off, they were flung to the bathroom floor without a second thought, because who would expect a three-year-old little boy to be concerned about germs on the bathroom floor? Keeping his gum safe was far more important.

The youngster used his white-socked foot to flush when he was done, probably having been told before that public toilets are dirty. Me, I spent this rather interesting potty time doubled over laughing as a witness to this unique, only-he-would-do antics.

“The alligator goes on my butt,” he instructed me, to be sure it faced the right direction, while I helped him put his underwear on.

            A few minutes later he ran from the bathroom with only underwear over his bottom half because I needed to sit to get the rest of his clothes back on. After dressing my nephew on a bench outside the women’s bathroom, I couldn’t help but ask him a nagging question.

            “Why do you take your clothes off when you go potty?”

            A timeless response used by many youngsters to explain their amusing, at times odd, behavior, followed.

            “Because.”

THE END

When He Grows Up

A story from 2011:

The li’l guy & me, Aunt Amy

So there I am on the burgundy leather couch in the living room near the humming computer. Nellie Bean, as her delighted and proud mother Sarah calls her newborn baby girl, snuggles in my arms as she lies in the niche of my right arm and does what 14-day-old little people do best: nap.

“I wanna be Supehman when I gwow up,” 4-year-old brother/cousin to Penelope Grace aka Nellie and sometimes Ellie, says. The youngster asserts his aspirations with the confidence of a person who at his tender age, can be absolutely anything he wants, even a fictional character who defies gravity and whose undergarments are exposed on the outside of his costume for the world to see.

Wearing a long-sleeved green shirt with the words GAP in large letters across the front, his legs are spread shoulder width apart as he poses as the man born on Krypton. Arms are extended with one shooting straight out and the other bent and pulled back like he’s about to shoot a bow and arrow. He postures himself the best way he knows how to imitate “Supehman.”

“What are you going to do when you’re Superman?” I inquired curiously.

“Fly willy fast.”

Of course, I thought, flying really fast sounds “SuperCool” to anyone who still believes he has the world at his fingertips.

“And if there’s another Supehman, I’ll fly faster than him,” he continued with his I-can-be-whatever-I-wanna-be-and-no-one-can-stop-me mindset.

Oh, to be young again.

 

THE END