Monday, November 28, 2005

Thanksgiving Leftovers

Let's all hear it for me for retaining the ability to lecture out of the third person this morning. When one spends four consecutive days with a 19-month-old, one forms sentences to be heard and commanded, not that either will take place. So today my students very nearly heard: "Give your essays to Aunt Beth. No throw!"

On Sunday I attempted to fulfill my godmotherly duties, and after Mass took Jim the Baby Nephew on a tour of the church altar. He was terrified of the baptismal font, impressed for maybe a second and a half with the Advent wreath, and could take or leave the tabernacle, which means I am failing miserably in my charge and he's going to grow up to be a bad, bad Catholic who can't even cover a four-corner Bingo properly. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. You'd think he could explain transubstantiation by now.

I dressed the baby for bed on Saturday night (you see here the end of the procedure, which took a good half hour-- "Okay, wait, it's on backwards. Give me your arm! Give Aunt Beth your arm! No, your other arm. Come back!") and had to call upon the Power of the Socks From the Notre Dame Bookstore.
Notre Dame was trying extremely hard to lose, so they sent in the eighteenth-string kicker, who missed. A lot. You would think that in practice, just in case this type of sort comes up in a game-type situation, he and the holder might want to spend a few minutes--I don't know-- kicking the ball through a goalpost.

And the Bengals had to call upon the Power of the Sleeper Pajamas, against the Ravens. While at the airport I noticed that the score was 34-0 Bengals, and so I sat down to watch a nice breathable stomping for once, and then the Bengals decided that the game would be far more exciting if they just gave the other team the ball, so within five minutes it was 34-21.

I was watching with my toes just outside a food court Outback, from between a faux-white fence, because that is all you see in Australia-- white fences, furious people wheeling little suitcases around, and $85 cocktails. I'd forgotten what it's like to actually care about a professional football game in a group setting. "OHHHHHHHHH!" we said when the Bengals effected a turnover. "YEEEAAAHHHH!" we said when they did something not-stupid. We said "OHHHHHHHHH!" quite often.

Jim's vocabulary is coming on very well. His favorite word is "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!!" He would slip behind the door of his playhouse, and I would say, "Jim! Where is Jim? Did he go outside? Oh, Aunt Beth is so sad without Jim!"

This was his cue to burst through the door: "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!!" My job was to be shocked.

He also employs it as a food critic:

ME: Do you want Kix?

JIM THE BABY NEPHEW: (shakes head violently)

ME: Do you want Rice Chex?

JIM THE BABY NEPHEW: (shakes head violently)

ME: Do you want veggie puffs? (which, ew, but I still had to present them as a not only viable, but delicious, option)

JIM THE BABY NEPHEW: (shakes head violently)

ME: Do you want fruit?


I bet I would have gotten a seat at Outback if I started ordering like that.

no throw at:

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