Posts Tagged 'anecdotes'

buttons, tchotchkes and cheetos for the christchild

impromptu nativity plays. something i had no idea was in my future, but apparently a christmas tradition in tiger's family.  it's my first christmas and, before i know it, i'm standing by the tree with a big stick and a bathrobe, the universal costume for "shepherd."  my sheep is a four-year-old wrapped in faux fur and meowing around my feet.  the angel (who has been getting ready for the last hour and i only just now realize why) climbs on the back of the couch on cue during her grandfather's reading from matthew.  she spreads her tablecloth wings and declares, "our lord has come!  glory, HAVE A LUAU!"

my favorite were the three hunky wise men (featuring of course tiger and two of his brothers) dressed in a strange combination of too-small highschool graduation robes and caps, scarves and sequins.  left to their own devices, they hastily scrounge for props.  tiger grabs an egg-shaped knicknack off a shelf and dubs it myrrh.  his closest brother snags their mother's mini sewing kit and declares, "frankinsence, for all your sewing needs!"  finally, the eldest of the three casts about helplessly for a while muttering, "gold… gold… gold…"  after a moment of stealthy activity at the buffet table, he spins around triumphantly raising high a small plate of everyone's favorite cheese-flavored puffed snacks.

the baby gurgles in her laundry basket of straw.  the sheep gets bored and walks away.  the wise men clown around, waiting for their entrance, tiger waving to me, a baby carrot jammed up one nostril.

so this is christmas.

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hundred shmundred

Fact #1:  whenever she hears the word "pilates," my niece lays down on the floor, sticks her feet in the air and pumps her arms at her sides in a pretty good imitation of the torturous "Hundred" (one hundred pumps with the arms while your legs are at a 45-degree angle or so).

Fact #2:  in my family, we tend to talk more about working out than we actually do it.

Result:  she got super excited the other day when i ACTUALLY STARTED DOING PILATES.  she came running over, lay down next to me and started the Hundred.  she watched my face, riveted as i kept count for us and occasionally reminded her to breathe.  then somewhere around fifteen, she put her legs down, turned to me and suggested, "geegoo," with an accompanying sign in ASL.

apparently it was time for a cookie.

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nose fruit (a cautionary tale)

we're eating sunday lunch at our favorite french cafe around (the only french cafe around. see below:)

and my Adorable Niece aged just 22 months (she's a genius!) wolfs down her fruit just so she can drink the juice at the bottom of the bowl.  this is her favorite part.  she has discovered that finishing the fruit is best done first, before tipping the bowl's contents onto her face.  (see?  genius!)  this time, when she puts the bowl down, there is a bit of pineapple stuck to the end of her nose.

"you have fruit on your nose!" i exclaim.

astonished, she removes the pineapple for examination.  she looks at me, processing.  points to her nose, says, "nose."

my niece's genius delights me.  i nod.  "nose fruit!" i proclaim.

to this, she responds by meditatively cramming that pineapple chunk as far up her left nostril as she can before the entire table of adults yell, "gah!!"

surprised and confused, my niece gazes around at us and breathes thoughtfully through her nose.  the pineapple flaps gently back and forth in there.

fear not, her father (my brother) extracted it safely, but the damage was done.  for that lunchtime at least, I assumed her grandfather's place as the Bad Influence.  this aunt thing is a tough gig.  after all the choked back swear words and missed opportunities for off-color jokes, what finally gets me… is nose fruit.  add that one to the mental list of "banned until she's thirty."  or at least old enough not to shove food into the wrong facial orifices.

i couldn't resist though: when loaning her mother a crumpled kleenex from my pocket later, i had to vouch for its cleanliness.  i whispered, "no nose fruit."

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