Life with E. Issue 2.

A few weeks ago, E volunteered (in a military draft sort of way) to fly her 3 year-old nephew from Los Angeles to Honolulu. That's six hours. In a confined space. With a small someone who is very squirmy, and whose hobbies include legos, ice cream, and high pitched squealing. Knowing said nephew, and knowing E, I promptly booked a ticket on the same flight. Lest E's head burst into flames. Or nephew arrive in Honolulu minus, er, arms.

This is not to say that E is bad with kids. E is a wonderful Aunty and nephew adores her. But anyone who thinks of children as small, innocent balls of joy... has not spent much time with kids. Children, like adults, have all their own stuff going on. And some of them are... well, actively out to get you.

"Stop it." E turns to give nephew the evil eye.
"No," he retorts.
"I said to STOP it."
"YOU stop it." He scrunches up his face.
"What?" she fires back. I begin to see smoke.
"Stop being a PEST, Aunty." He makes a face. "I'll stop being a pest if YOU stop being a pest, Aunty."

I would have burst out laughing, if I hadn't thought it might undermine E's authority.

A few hours later:

"Can't we give him rum or something?"
"I don't think so."
"What about NOW?"
"Well, we can get us some rum or something."
"But will that make HIM quiet?"
"No, but it might make us mind less."

So you can see how it was. In any case, nephew was delivered safely and no worse for wear. E and I? Well, that was another story.

"After all that, I think I may have my tubes tied." E rolls her eyes.
"That is, if our ovaries haven't already shriveled up from all the screaming."