Friday, November 20, 2009

Set the Wayback Machine Mr. Peabody

TGIFF - love that extra F! Home from work today, apparently just to watch the rain fall out of the sky. Was hoping for a nice fall day to kick off my birthday weekend in style... but instead it's a soggy mountain breakdown. With my 43rd birthday just two days away, Sherman and Mr. Peabody showed up today with their Wayback Machine and whisked me back to the age of 31, when I last had a three year old in the house. And before I knew it, there I was this morning- sitting on the side of the bathtub for 15 minutes reading Clifford the Big Red Dog to my soon to be 4 year old nephew as he attempted to "poop on the potty!" There is something ever so precious about a 3 year old whose SportsCenter highlight is when the freakin' turtle pokes its head out for some air. Sitting on the bowl, he tucks his head between his knees for a closer look and returns to me with a big ol' grin and the eyes so wide they would make Little Orphan Annie look stoned. "My poop is coming, Uncle Kenny!" And in case I did not believe him, lil' Aidan felt a need to prove it by lifting up his cheeks off the seat to show me. And lord, at splashdown, you would have thought this kid had just won the lottery. Two hi-fives and one knuckle-touch made the moment complete. Kinda made me long for the days when a successful visit to the toilet was cause for reward rather than complaints about not spraying.

Side Note: Being an Uncle comes with a whole host of responsibilities, such as teaching the "Pull My Finger" game and the proper annunciation of "Shit!" But there are some other expecations that come with the territory. For example, if your 3 year old nephew happens to have a bag of sticky-back letters, any responsible uncle would know exactly what to do.


With the toilet party over, the Wayback Machine shot my ass back to 42 with just two days to go before the big 43. I hear people all the time fret about turning another year older. Foreign to me is the notion that another birthday is cause for depression and denial. I actually look forward to turning 43 - mainly because I have no choice and it certainly beats the alternative.

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