Friday, July 15, 2016

Nephew of the Year

My eight year old nephew ran in this morning, with some kind of offering to me.  It looked like a treat, a jellybean, and he held it out, but with such a strange expression, that my Spider Sense couldn't help but start tingling.  "What's that?"

"It's candy," he said.  "Eat it."

"I don't get it," I said, because usually my nephews come into the room to steal my candy (which I used to have troves of in various drawers and hidden caches).  This was the first time the role was reversed.

"Just eat it.  See how it tastes."  And there was a barely-concealed amusement in his face and voice.

"Nah, I'm not really a jellybean sort of guy."  This is true.  About five years ago, somebody gave me a baggie of Jelly Bellies at a Dionysus festival, and it's still two-thirds full on my desk somewhere (buried under receipts, broken toys I'll never glue back together, and stories I wrote while Bush was still in office).

"Come on," the boy said.  "Just eat it."

"Nope.  Explain."

He sighed, and said, "We got these candies, and you never know if the flavors are gonna be good or bad.  Sometimes it's bubble gum or lemon, but sometimes it's throw-up, dirt, or diarrhea.  Now will you eat it?"

I think I'm gonna lock my door from now on.

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