Friday, July 5, 2013

Huey and Dewey (No Louey this Time)

For the last three and a half years, I have been an Aunt.  I love being an Aunt.  My brother has two little boys and my sister one, and, for the purposes of this blog, I will call them Huey, Dewey, and Louey.

Louey turned nine months old today.  That's epic, but he's up in Wisconsin, where my parents are celebrating with him; a long way from where I am. 

Huey and Dewey are playing trains with my husband.  My brother and his wife came to spend the whole slam-dam Fourth of July weekend extravaganza with us, which was totally excellent.  Due to flight delays, they arrived after midnight on what was technically Thursday morning; my husband had to go into work at 7:30 am even on the Fourth (he's the ophthalmologist on call for our town this weekend), so he was sleeping, and my daughter crashed; my aunt and uncle, who were visiting, also headed to bed fairly early.  I "stayed up" by falling asleep on the couch, and my son stayed up for real.  So we played with our sweet nephews for a few moments in the middle of the night.

Yesterday the Fourth was a little funky.  At 8am the weather channel said, "100% chance of rain at 8 am," but the sun was shining.  We called off our barbeque based on the radar.  At noon, still based on the radar, we called it back on.  It stayed completely beautiful through the cookout and the wiffle ball games and the homemade ice cream, and then it started to rain.  When it slowed to a drizzle we lit off some of the fireworks.  Dewey, who's not quite two, hit his face in a blanket for the first few, and then howled.  Huey, who's 3 1/2, sat on his dad's (my brother's) lap until he decided his cousin and her friends were more fun.

Tonight my son is out with friends.  My aunt and uncle have left to visit their own friends.  My brother and his wife are out on a delayed anniversary dinner.  I rather expected Huey and especially Dewey to howl about being left along with us, but they didn't: Huey just kept scrubbing bubble solution into the flagstone patio with his heels, and Dewey threw a ball into a prickle bush.  My husband played baseball with them, if by playing baseball you mean tried to show them how to hit a thrown wiffle ball while preventing them from clobbering each other.  We ate leftovers for dinner.  Dewey sat staring at his uncle, then careful put his napkin in his lap, then scrubbed his face with it.  He tried to eat his bratwurst with a fork, which means he picked up a piece of bratwurst, held it in front of his lips, and then used his fork to push the piece into his mouth.

Now they're playing trains.  Their uncle built them a terrific track from our son's old wooden train set, and they're zooming through tunnels and over bridges.  "Choo, choo!" Dewey yelled.

It's awesome.