From the Mouths of Babes

"Little boys should never be sent to bed.  They always wake up a day older"

- Peter Pan

If you were kind enough to notice that I didn’t write a blog last week, I apologise.  And thanks for noticing.  But I have a good excuse.

I had the opportunity to spend a final night with my sister and her family.  There was a big dinner in my other sister’s house.  I couldn’t resist.  Also, I’m a martyr to the fear of missing out.

I’ve had a whale of a time with them all.  I was an aunt for about twenty years before I got a nephew.  For years it was all girls, and they were all amazing and funny and lovely, and remain some of my favourite people.  Then nine years ago, the first little boy came along, my darling godson, handsome and funny, and he has been followed, so far, by three more little boys, two nephews and, amazingly, given my youthful looks, a great-nephew. 

For the past couple of weeks, I’ve spent time with all four little heroes, and they have been kind enough to give me advice, and to teach me a few lessons about life.

One of my six-year-old nephews was in my mother’s on Saturday.  This child is hilarious and might just turn out to be the wittiest person in Ireland as an adult.  

We’d just said goodbye to my sister and brother in law and their sons.  His Nibs rang me to make sure I was okay.  He probably just wanted to confirm that I would get a grip and not be still roaring when I got home, but I appreciated it all the same.  After the call, I turned to my nephew and apologised for not giving him the chance to speak to his uncle.  He just looked baffled. 

“I presume you wanted to tell him you love him”.  I was joking.  This child is too cool for that sort of caper.

“No.”

“Oh. Why not?”

“Because I don’t.” 

Fair enough, I was highly amused.  My brother, the child’s father said

“Be nice to people, or I’ll smack you”.  He’s one of the parents who threatens to hit his child but wouldn’t think of raising a hand to him.

“Bring it on Dad.  D’you want a punch in the willie?”

My brother, not usually a man who would draw back from crude comments for the sake of a joke, was scandalised.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen him speechless before.

Lesson number one.  When someone is giving you trouble, try to shock them into silence rather than argue.  You might even make your aunt helpless with laughter.

The second lesson came from the same nephew.  I found myself alone with him for a little while.   Rather than let him discover that I know less than nothing about Wii U games or fidget spinners, I decided to start my own conversation.  We played “Would you rather”.  

I asked him “Would you rather never eat pizza again, or never get summer holidays again?” He answered quickly.  It appears he loves his summer holidays.

Then he looked at my cigarettes and lighter and said “Would you rather give up smoking or get cancer?” 

Is there such a thing as a child being too intelligent?

His father keeps telling me I’m not allowed to give him money anymore, or he’ll only love me because I sneak him cash.  I can’t understand this.  Why wouldn’t I give him cash if it will make him love me?  Give him the money I say, and feck it. But I’m not in charge, so this week I got him a fidget spinner and handed over no banknotes.  He noticed though.

We were all sitting there, hearts were heavy from parting with the others.  It was about nine in the morning, and I was still in my pyjamas and dressing gown.

“Do you have a tenner in your pocket?” he suddenly asked me.

“No.”

His father interjected

“I’m serious now, behave yourself.  I’ve told you before you’re not allowed ask people for money.”

“I didn’t ask her for money, Dad.  I just thought I heard the rustle of a tenner, that’s all.”

The rustle of a tenner.

Second lesson.  If you’re insanely handsome and have lovely freckles you can say whatever you want.

Thirdly, if you want someone to share information that they don’t want to tell you, adopt a professional attitude to fool them into your confidence.

When I’m in the car with children, I like to sing loudly, and teach them car songs.  I find it makes the journey fly by, and makes the children like me more.  Although it doesn’t usually endear me to the adults.

Last Thursday I sat in the back of the car with two of my nephews, Luc and Seán.  I went through my usual repertoire, (“Trup Trup a Capalín”, because it’s in Irish.  I don’t know any other Irish, so this one gets a few goes.  Then I like a round of “Build me up Buttercup”, and maybe Patsy Cline’s “Crazy” if nothing else comes to mind).  Anyway, I discovered that “God Save Ireland” is one of their favourites, so we started on rebel songs.  I burst into “Some say the Devil is dead”.  After the first verse I realised I had to stop because the song is filthy.

“Oh no, I can’t sing that, it’s too dirty.” I couldn’t have said anything more stupid.

They were fascinated.  “Please, please, whisper the words in my ear”.  Luc was determined to hear a dirty song as part of his holiday experience.  No, I insisted, it’s far too foul.  I’d sing it to him when he is eighteen.  He was disgusted. Then Seán, all of six years old, turned to me, patted me on the back of the hand and said

“Please, go on.  Don’t be embarrassed.”  He sounded like a doctor.  He said it so gently and so kindly that I was tempted to obey.  Only his mother’s whipping around from the passenger seat and saying my name loudly stopped me.  Lesson three.  Never underestimate what you can achieve with the right attitude.

Seán also taught me that sometimes the best way to win a fight is to stop fighting. 

Obviously the two brothers fight.  Luc is like his father, a level-headed sort of person.  Seán is more like our side.  He tends toward the hot-headed.  One night last week, Luc wouldn’t lend Seán his iPad.  To be fair, Seán has his own iPad.  Things seem to have escalated very quickly, and Seán decided to give Luc a few belts for himself.  Eventually Luc, who in fairness is very patient, hit back in self-defence.  At which point Seán gave a roar that was heard around the house, then lay down on the floor before any adults could get to the scene.

So poor Luc, despite having been the recipient of more than one clatter, found himself him standing over the prone form of his small brother when a group of adults rushed into the room.  Luckily his parents are used to this type of carry on and got details before accusations began to fly.

Another lesson, don’t suffer fools gladly.  On their last night, I was subjecting my poor little nephews to what can only be described as a protracted goodbye. I decided that I should share as much advice as possible, in the limited time we had left together.

“Be good.”

Seán was too tired for my nonsense.  He just turned over and closed his eyes.  Luc, however, wasn’t going to take my bossiness without retaliating.

“You be good too.  Especially at work.  Stop getting into trouble.”

Yikes.

“Try to be kind to people”.

“Don’t dye your hair brown again.  It’s nicer now.”

“I love you every day, even when you don’t see me.”

“Give up smoking, it’s very bad for you.”

Christ almighty, I hadn’t expected all the comebacks. 

“I’ll miss you, but I’ll see you on Facetime.”

“And of course, you’ll be sending us a box of gifts at Christmas, won’t you?"

“Yes, and you can call me any time you want to.”

“But you’ll definitely send the box?  Before Christmas?”

“Definitely.  Don’t worry.”

“Do you want to tell me what you’re thinking of sending us?”

“No thanks.”  Sometimes I think the child doesn’t know me at all.  Does he honestly see me as the type of person who knows what she’s putting in a Christmas box in August?

As for my three-year-old great-nephew, he doesn’t have the vocabulary yet to put me in my place.  But he also taught me something.  He taught me that if your face lights up when someone walks into a room, and you run up to them with hugs or to hold their hand for no apparent reason, and say things like “But I love you” when they refuse to go on the climbing frame with you, you can make that person fall in love with you, and then they are your plaything, to do with what you wish.