I'm back -- and heartbroken. The World's Most Adorable Nephew has turned into a
boy. Oh, the horror!
I was in Wilmington and Philly this past weekend for TWMAN's second birthday. I was expecting to spend some quality time with TWMAN, as he snuggled up calmly, gazed at me adoringly and acknowledged me as the Best. Aunt. EVER. I am, of course, an idiot.
The boy is two. And a boy. So there was no "calmly," there was no snuggling, there was no quiet admiration. Instead, there was a maelstrom of toys and wrapping paper and cake and ice cream and Thomas the Tank Engine merchandise, as you would expect at any party with four toddlers. Things were flung, often and with great vigor. Tantrums were thrown over who got dibs on the bouncy horse. Toys were wrestled with and discarded. Gifts were cast aside as the next oooh shiny thing came into view. The kids were all adorable, and actually quiet well behaved, but they were, you know, kids. Kids = chaos. By the end, I was rocking back and forth in the he corner, whimpering "happy place HAPPY PLACE" over and over to myself.
So it was your typical 2-year-old's birthday party.
Atypically, the food was great -- arroz con pollo and plantain tostados, plus a Thomas the Tank Engine cake my mom made, with both a white cake Thomas and a chocolate coal car with licorice coal. It rocked. And TWMAN, even when he's an agent of chaos, is still, well, The World's Most Adorable Nephew. So I've got that going for me.
TWMAN is also possibly the smartest kid on the planet. Need proof? I give you the following conversation between TWMAN, his mother and my dad:
TWMAN has come downstairs for a nap, barefoot.
Dad: TWMAN, where are your shoes?
TWMAN:Shuse?
Laura, my sister and the mother of TWMAN, has just walked in and caught what TWMAN said, but not my dad's question.
Laura: You want some juice?
TWMAN: [patiently, explaining] Shuse.
Laura: OK, I'll get you some juice.
TWMAN: [exasperated -- what's wrong with mom that she can't keep up with the conversation?] Shuse!
Laura: Yes, I'm getting you juice.
TWMAN: [this is getting ridiculous -- who knew mom was an idiot? Maybe if I just say it louder...] SHUSE!
Laura: Here's you're juice.
TWMAN: [Oh fer... I give up. Maybe if I switch languages she'll understand.] Zapatos!
See? He's brilliant. Brilliant, I tell you!
But like so many of the smart, funny guys I've loved in my life, he wants nothing to do with me. He spurns me! He sends me away! "No, titi Sarah! No beso! No abrazo! No!" And he turns away, and attempts to scale his mother's legs or hide behind his father's back. Curses! Foiled again!
What's worse, he'll toy with me. I thought I was wearing him down, and sat next to him while he played. He looked at me seriously with those gorgeous little eyes, grabbed a couple of my fingers in his little hand, and purposefully pulled me away into the kitchen. Then he let me go --
tossed me away! -- and toddled back to his toys. He did this at least three times. He spurned me! And he enjoyed it! He loves to throw me away! He's like... well, just about every other man I've ever crushed on, actually.
Tossed aside -- by a two-year-old! Oh, the humanity!
I blame this humiliating turn of events for my performance at Jeremy and Becky's House of Games on Sunday. Jeremy graciously agreed to retrieve me from Wilmington (after I promised him lunch and leftover birthday cake) and put me up on Sunday night, even though that meant I had to befoul their TV with Charmed. They felt my pain. Jeremy and I set a fire in the fireplace, debated whether the apartment was filling with smoke, contemplated the symptoms of carbon monoxide poisoning, and mimed being overcome by smoke when Becky got home from work, but ruined it by laughing. Good fun. Then they kicked my ass not once but twice at Settlers of Catan, and once at Carcassonne. A dispiriting end to the weekend. Just like high school!
On the upside, I got to see Amy's new house, which is gorgeous, and meet her housemate Laura, who rocks. I got to see Darren play hockey, which was fun even though the promised beer never materialized. (For the love of all that is good, people, you can have a sports-watching experience without the sweet, sweet respite that is alcohol. What are you doing to me?) Oh, and I had an interview for a story I'm working on, thus allowing me to write off the plane ticket. Whoo to the hoo.
Now, I am suffering through Mac withdrawal, as my happy little laptop is having logic board problems and needed to be sent away for (free, thank god) repairs. That means no working from the couch, which is inhuman. Oh, the pain I face!
