My niece Winter is six.
Jun. 13th, 2004 12:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xiphiasWinter Rose is my niece. I saw her, and my nephew Drew, four, tonight. We'd gotten together for Drew's birthday, Lis and my fifth anniversary, and because Winter and Drew's parents were in town for the wedding reception of two of their friends who could finally get married.
Anyway, Winter is a trip. As always.
We went over to my parents' house for dinner. Winter, Drew, their parents, Mom's parents, and Dad's parents were there.
Apparently, in the afternoon before we got there, people were talking about weddings, because of M and Beth's wedding, and Lis and my anniversary. My Nana (Mom's mother) asked Winter if she, Nana, would be invited when Winter got married. Winter thought about that, and said, "Sure, if you're not dead by then."
When we showed up, Winter and Drew and I started roughhousing, because, well, I'm an uncle. And uncles do stuff like that. Anyway, I was teaching Winter useful skills, like the proper way to do a head-butt, because, as I told her, "When you were just a week old, I was holding you, and you head-butted me, and you nearly knocked me out. And you were only a week old baby then!" So I know she's got natural talent.
I was also showing her some more punches -- he father taught her a forward torque punch, so I was showing her some boxing jabs and crosses (my family has this general belief that, if little boys and girls are going to get in fights when they get to school, we want to make darned sure that OUR little boys and girls have the ability to wipe the floor with any OTHER little boys and girls. Oh, and that they use their powers for good, because with great power comes great responsiblity.) Anyway, Winter ran off and hid behind Lis, because, "You can't hit me now! I'm hiding behind Lis, and you can't hit her; she's your wife."
Which is 100% correct (barring BDSM things which were not relevant to the discussion at hand.)
Another time, we were roughhousing, and she bit me, and I shoved her, basically in shock, and she whanged her head a bit. She was upset, looking like she was thinking about crying, and said, "You pushed me in the eye, and then I whacked my head. But even so, you're still my Uncle Ian, and I still love you."
And I gave her a hug and said, "And you bit my knee, and it really hurt, and you're still my Niece Winter, and I love you."
She thought about this, and grinned, and said, "Okay!" I told her I was getting tired, which is why I accedentally hurt her, so we decided to play with toy cars instead.
Winter is tough, but not stupid. She has no desire to get hurt, but recognizes it as one of the risks of roughhousing. But, when someone's getting tired, and the risks go up, it's time to do something else for a while. Drew, on the other hand, is tough and stupid. Okay, he's not actually stupid, but he is two years younger, and hasn't quite figured out the "stop before getting THAT badly hurt" thing.
Later on, she told us, "There's this song, but I only really really like one part of it," and she sang it to us. You may recognize it, in order to sing along. She sang us a song that goes,
There's more to the song, but I think you get the point.
Dad and I started singing,
To which Winter got indignant and said, "No! You're singing the song right! I just like the ONE part."
Later on, we helped put Winter and Drew to bed, and while I was tucking her in, she told me, "Uncle Ian, I'm imagining what your house is like." (she's never yet seen our house, although we've now got it almost to the point that she could come by.)
"Oh?"
"You should tidy it up."
Anyway, Winter is a trip. As always.
We went over to my parents' house for dinner. Winter, Drew, their parents, Mom's parents, and Dad's parents were there.
Apparently, in the afternoon before we got there, people were talking about weddings, because of M and Beth's wedding, and Lis and my anniversary. My Nana (Mom's mother) asked Winter if she, Nana, would be invited when Winter got married. Winter thought about that, and said, "Sure, if you're not dead by then."
When we showed up, Winter and Drew and I started roughhousing, because, well, I'm an uncle. And uncles do stuff like that. Anyway, I was teaching Winter useful skills, like the proper way to do a head-butt, because, as I told her, "When you were just a week old, I was holding you, and you head-butted me, and you nearly knocked me out. And you were only a week old baby then!" So I know she's got natural talent.
I was also showing her some more punches -- he father taught her a forward torque punch, so I was showing her some boxing jabs and crosses (my family has this general belief that, if little boys and girls are going to get in fights when they get to school, we want to make darned sure that OUR little boys and girls have the ability to wipe the floor with any OTHER little boys and girls. Oh, and that they use their powers for good, because with great power comes great responsiblity.) Anyway, Winter ran off and hid behind Lis, because, "You can't hit me now! I'm hiding behind Lis, and you can't hit her; she's your wife."
Which is 100% correct (barring BDSM things which were not relevant to the discussion at hand.)
Another time, we were roughhousing, and she bit me, and I shoved her, basically in shock, and she whanged her head a bit. She was upset, looking like she was thinking about crying, and said, "You pushed me in the eye, and then I whacked my head. But even so, you're still my Uncle Ian, and I still love you."
And I gave her a hug and said, "And you bit my knee, and it really hurt, and you're still my Niece Winter, and I love you."
She thought about this, and grinned, and said, "Okay!" I told her I was getting tired, which is why I accedentally hurt her, so we decided to play with toy cars instead.
Winter is tough, but not stupid. She has no desire to get hurt, but recognizes it as one of the risks of roughhousing. But, when someone's getting tired, and the risks go up, it's time to do something else for a while. Drew, on the other hand, is tough and stupid. Okay, he's not actually stupid, but he is two years younger, and hasn't quite figured out the "stop before getting THAT badly hurt" thing.
Later on, she told us, "There's this song, but I only really really like one part of it," and she sang it to us. You may recognize it, in order to sing along. She sang us a song that goes,
Bye-bye, Miss American Pie;
Bye-bye, Miss American Pie.
Bye-bye, Miss American Pie --
Bye-bye, Miss American Pie.
Bye-bye, Miss American Pie,
Bye-bye, Miss American Pie;
Bye-bye, Miss American Pie.
Bye-bye, Miss American Pie.
There's more to the song, but I think you get the point.
Dad and I started singing,
Bye-bye, Miss American Pie;
Drove my Chevvy to the levy, but the levy was dry
Those good-ole-boys were drinking whiskey and rye
And singing "This'll be the day that I die,"
To which Winter got indignant and said, "No! You're singing the song right! I just like the ONE part."
Later on, we helped put Winter and Drew to bed, and while I was tucking her in, she told me, "Uncle Ian, I'm imagining what your house is like." (she's never yet seen our house, although we've now got it almost to the point that she could come by.)
"Oh?"
"You should tidy it up."