Wednesday, October 24, 2007
When I first met my wife she was a senior in high school and living with her parents. I was a cradle robbing twenty-year old college student. Also living with her parents was her older sister who had a two year old son. Yes, the same nephew who at 16 now stands several inches above six foot and hovers around three hundred pounds. The one I mentioned in a previous post about high school football.
So in the early days of our dating Corndog (I gave him that name when he was about four because he had a shaved head that reminded me of a corndog) was around a lot. And he was a funny kid, And since his Dad was absent I took it upon myself to introduce him to the finer aspects of masculine culture. Things like pro wrestling, fishing, making farting noises with your arm pits, and the joys of rubber band wars. The list could go on but I'll stop there.
He was about four or five one day when it was just me and him in the living room. My wife's parents were away as was her sister so Jennifer and I were baby sitting.
I felt a bit of pressure building in my guts so like a good future uncle, I called him over to me and instructed him to pull my finger. His eyes widened at the boisterous eruption.
"Do it again. Do it again." He squealed.
I obliged him for the sake of entertainment, and because I'd probably eaten at Taco Bell or some other such intestinal stimulating fast food joint.
He was in awe at my second acoustical outburst. After a few seconds he stuck out a tiny little finger and said, "Do it to me."
I pulled his finger at which point he grabbed onto the edge of the table and commenced to grimacing and groaning.
This is when Jennifer walked back into the room. She took one look at little Corndog and said, "What is he doing?"
"Trying to fart," I answered.
"No he's not," She said.
And in a very rough and strained voice Corndog piped in, "Yes I am." The the tiniest of pops came out and he smiled proudly.
My future wife simply shook her head and walked away.
I held my hand up and Corndog gave me a high five. It was a great moment that every uncle and nephew should share.