I’m been writing about the little goofballs a lot lately. Probably because they’ve been around a lot lately. And this is my blog. So there.
That would be a pretty silly opening if, in fact, I didn’t spend time with them this weekend, eh?
Well, I did!
There was a scheduling snafu and the ACN needed a babysitter. So, I was on Unc duty again. As I will be next weekend. Best Uncle EVER.
I should warn you that I am still a little bit tuckered out today. Even after a good night sleep. (I also feel a little like someone beat me with a sack of doorknobs while I slept.) And the words… they are not flowing. I’m considering stopping this right now and doing it in point form. Don’t expect any funnies.
As usual, The Monkey was also over. She was great with The ACN, of course. And she was in her full Monkey splendor. I’m no expert on step dancing (she travels and performs in a group) but I am relatively sure that none of their routines involve the Beyonce style booty-shaking she was demonstrating for us. I could be wrong though.
I think I mentioned in a previous post that The Monkey had wanted me to make her a CD full of music. She wrote out FIVE pages of songs that she wanted on it. So, I did it for her. I brought it over to her when she was in the pool. I put it on a deck table. The only other thing on the table was her glasses. Then I went home.
This weekend I asked if she was getting any use out of the CD. And she said, “Oh… that. I never did find it.” I explained that it was sitting on the table, right next to the glasses that she needed to get home. She shrugged and tuned me out by starting to sing Rhiana’s “Unfaithful.”
At some point during the weekend, the TV got switched from my college football game to “Zoey 101.” It stars Britney Spears’ little sister. It’s a little spooky to watch. It’s like you already know what the chick’s future looks like. You want to warn her. It’s like if you could go back a few years into the past and tell Larry Craig, “Stick to Craigslist, homey. For real.”
I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned him in here before, but we have another little cousin. Let’s call him The Turkey. He’s 11. He was a preemie too, so he is a tiny little dude. And a red head. And a character.
He lives out west, but when he visits, he ALWAYS makes his presence known. He makes The Monkey seem quite quiet and reserved.
During a recent visit, The Monkey was off doing Monkey-type things. So, The Turkey was spending the day home alone with his grandmother. His aunt (my cousin) called me to see if I could entertain him for a few hours. Preferably by getting him outside and off the computer. So, I went to get him, armed with offers of playing catch or soccer. But, every one of my ideas was met with “Or we could go rent some video games.”
He clearly felt much stronger about the issue than I did.
I said, “Fine, let me go grab my wallet.” He replied with, “I have money, big guy. Come oooooooooooooooooooon.” And then he punched me on the arm. Well, since I am almost literally twice as tall as he is, he kind of got on his tip toes and punched me on the forearm. (This is the same kid that once challenged me to a fight by saying, “Put up your dukes, pretty princess.”)
We hopped in the truck and took off. Now, the drive from my house to the video store takes… like a minute and a half. Give or take. In that time, he told me 14 completely unrelated stories.
We got into the place and his eyes lit up. I asked if it usually took him a long time to pick a game. He said, “No. I am VERY quick.” Then he went to the nearest shelf of video games and started looking at every. single. one. And for each he had a story. “My friend has this one!” “You can’t find this anywhere in Calgary.” “Peter, are you listening??”
A half hour into this process (literally), I noticed something written on one of the games. I asked, “Dude… are these for the PS3?” “Yeah.” “Don’t you have a PS2 at the house.” He replied, “Yeah,” as if I was asking the stupidest questions ever. I replied the only way I could, “I’m going to kick you in the ass.” He chuckled and then went to the PS2 shelf. Where the process of looking at every game started again.
Almost an hour into the visit — including 15 minutes of me going, “Pick a game. Pick a game. Pick a game” — he picked a game.
He tossed it onto the counter and realized that the place also sold ice cream. Of course, he didn’t know which flavour that he wanted. I was relieved when this part only took 5 minutes. He ordered a medium. Then he complained that the dude was putting in some extra ice cream. The dude, also the owner, said, “Don’t worry. I am only charging you for a medium.” The Turkey was unconvinced, but relented.
With his ice cream and game on the counter, he reached into his pocket for his money. He pulled it out and put it on the counter.
All TWO DOLLARS of it.
I started laughing. “That’s all you have?” He was eating a spoonful of ice cream by this point. “Yep.”
The total was 8-something.
I passed him back his two bucks — which he put in his pocket with a shrug — and shoo’d him towards the door.
I looked at the owner — who thankfully is a friend — and he was cracking up. I asked him if I could bring the cash up a bit later. He was cool with it.
On the drive home, The Turkey told a dozen more stories. He ate, maybe, three spoonfuls of ice cream.
As we pulled into the driveway, he said, “I’ve had enough ice cream.”
The Turkey is also entertaining around the pool. On his most recent visit, as I arrived poolside and saw him floating on an air mattress wearing a pink shirt and colorful shorts, he immediately yelled at me, “Heeeeeey Pete! REAL men wear pink. Pffft. You’re not a real man.” I hadn’t said a word!
Though him wearing clothes around the pool is a definitely step in the right direction. The year before, he decided that he did not like having wet clothes on him. At all. So, as soon as he stepped out of the pool, he dropped his swim shorts. THEN he would yell for his mother, or whoever, to go find him some dry shorts.
After many speeches about how he could no longer walk naked in mixed company, of varying ages, he started ducking behind a deck chair to change. Of course, this never stopped him from yelling, “Get a good look, ladies!”
We fully expect him to do time at some point.
The reason I bring him up is that there is talk that he and his family might be moving back this way in the nearish future. If that happens, I might have to start a separate blog just for the adventures of the little squirts.
As for the littlest squirt, The ACN was, as always, very entertaining this weekend.
Here is a sample of an hour on Saturday morning:
– the first half hour involved me walking out the back door numerous times, doing a lap around the truck, and then coming back in as a different unc. You see, she decided that I was a bad unc and had to be sent back to the “Unc store.” (Presumably located in the driveway.) However, no matter what name, or silly voice, I used, she was displeased. Probably because all the uncs looked surprisingly like me. Finally she agreed to take me back, as long as I behaved better.
– then I had to give Spotty (the new Dalmatian webkinz stuffed animal) a “dry bum.” This involved wiping his butt with a kleenex. And then placing a second kleenex on him as a pull-up. ACN LOVED this. (Spotty, because he is new, had to sleep with me the night before. The ACN wanted to make sure that he wasn’t a bed-wetter or a night time bum-pincher.)
– then the ACN said that I needed a kick in the bum, so I had to kneel on the kitchen floor as she giggled and booted me from chairy.
But, it is not al
l trade-ins at the Unc store and butt kickings for me. The ACN’s other grandmother bought her a little silver chain and matching locket. She told her Daddy that she wanted to put a picture of me in it! Awwwwwww.
Of course, by now she could very well have decided that she instead wants a picture of her puppy, her bus driver… or a bag of Cheetohs.