From the mouths of babes
My niece and nephew (well, they are hardly "babes", I suppose; my niece is eleven, and my nephew is eight) said a lot of interesting things this weekend. So I figured I'd memorialize them here.
To start with, they are both fascinated by our vegetarianism. We are peppered with questions every time we go home. My nephew, B, wrote in an essay for school: "I like Thanksgiving because you get to see people you don't usually see, like my Aunt Bearette and Uncle D. They are both vegetarians. They adopted two turkeys." His teacher crossed that out and wrote something to the effect of "They bought two turkeys for Thanksgiving," and B crossed that out.
So B likes to ask why we became vegetarian. For D, it was when he was 16, at summer camp. For me, I was 21, shopping for dinner, and realized I didn't want to cook with slabs of raw meat. (Plus, I honestly don't like fish, and the only meat I'd been into for a while was chicken, though as a twelve-year-old on her growth spurt I ingested a lot of Big Macs.) So it was an easy decision for me.
B: Did you want to marry a vegetarian?
Me: Well, it wasn't a goal of mine, but it worked out well.
B: So you met someone you really loved, and he was vegetarian.
Me: Would you marry a vegetarian?
B: Maybe.
When I repeated this to the others, he said, "I wouldn't mind."
Later, in the pool, he said, "Nice bikini," but in an admiring-fashion-choices way, not a prurient way. He has lots of little girlfriends and goes to beading parties, so my brother has said he expects to go to B's commitment ceremony in Vermont one day. But I don't think so. That boy's hands used to roam like Bill Clinton's! He was always patting your butt after a hug (but again, in a kind of reassuring way. He seems to have outgrown it, though).
Then he asked, as I was lounging in the hot tub, "Would you like a shoulder massage?"
Me: Sure. Does H [my niece/his sister] get one?
B (kneading my shoulders): No, because you're my aunt and you're nice. She's my sister and she's evil.
!
B also asked D, "When do you start to grow stubble?", indicating the little hairs pushing out of D's face.
D: Why?
B: Because I don't want to be surprised. I want to be prepared.
I guess my niece, at eleven, does not say as many kid-like things. She is, in fact, more like an adult. When I forgot my bathing suit and had to drive back to get it, she said, "That is unbelievable." However, she did tell us, "You guys are good parents" (after I directed B to put his sneakers on, now). And when we got lost driving from the pool to the mall (they were going to church there--remember, I have not lived there in many years), H calmly directed me, saying, "I want you to turn left at this light," etc.
I think she should be running a small company. D says she should run a large company, but I know she would prudently start small.
To start with, they are both fascinated by our vegetarianism. We are peppered with questions every time we go home. My nephew, B, wrote in an essay for school: "I like Thanksgiving because you get to see people you don't usually see, like my Aunt Bearette and Uncle D. They are both vegetarians. They adopted two turkeys." His teacher crossed that out and wrote something to the effect of "They bought two turkeys for Thanksgiving," and B crossed that out.
So B likes to ask why we became vegetarian. For D, it was when he was 16, at summer camp. For me, I was 21, shopping for dinner, and realized I didn't want to cook with slabs of raw meat. (Plus, I honestly don't like fish, and the only meat I'd been into for a while was chicken, though as a twelve-year-old on her growth spurt I ingested a lot of Big Macs.) So it was an easy decision for me.
B: Did you want to marry a vegetarian?
Me: Well, it wasn't a goal of mine, but it worked out well.
B: So you met someone you really loved, and he was vegetarian.
Me: Would you marry a vegetarian?
B: Maybe.
When I repeated this to the others, he said, "I wouldn't mind."
Later, in the pool, he said, "Nice bikini," but in an admiring-fashion-choices way, not a prurient way. He has lots of little girlfriends and goes to beading parties, so my brother has said he expects to go to B's commitment ceremony in Vermont one day. But I don't think so. That boy's hands used to roam like Bill Clinton's! He was always patting your butt after a hug (but again, in a kind of reassuring way. He seems to have outgrown it, though).
Then he asked, as I was lounging in the hot tub, "Would you like a shoulder massage?"
Me: Sure. Does H [my niece/his sister] get one?
B (kneading my shoulders): No, because you're my aunt and you're nice. She's my sister and she's evil.
!
B also asked D, "When do you start to grow stubble?", indicating the little hairs pushing out of D's face.
D: Why?
B: Because I don't want to be surprised. I want to be prepared.
I guess my niece, at eleven, does not say as many kid-like things. She is, in fact, more like an adult. When I forgot my bathing suit and had to drive back to get it, she said, "That is unbelievable." However, she did tell us, "You guys are good parents" (after I directed B to put his sneakers on, now). And when we got lost driving from the pool to the mall (they were going to church there--remember, I have not lived there in many years), H calmly directed me, saying, "I want you to turn left at this light," etc.
I think she should be running a small company. D says she should run a large company, but I know she would prudently start small.
Comments
I like Marian Keyes a lot, too. I'm amazed by how down-to-earth she is, especially since she's a huge bestseller.
What a cute-sounding kid. I've found that people are always just fascinated by what's unusual. Living in NYC, you probably aren't too unusual in your vegetarianism.
kitkat - well, i'm the youngest sister, so i guess i'm not evil ;) i think that's true about the vegetarianism. it's more unusual in MA than here.
Which Marian Keyes? Is it the new one? If so, I must say that it was one of the most difficult things to read, but not because it was written badly. On the contrary, I bawled and bawled for the first two or three days of reading it because it was so painful. Plus, I kept thinking, "OMG, what if that was ME???"
Marian Keyes is a wonderful writer!