Yesterday the nephew was returned to his rightful owners. For three weeks I fed him, I watered him, I did not kill him. I even learned a whole lot in the process about eight-year old boys and how absolutely delightful, frustrating, wonderful, infuriating and charming they can be.
I will miss a great many things about our summer together. Here are just a few.
The Borscht Belt Brodie
What do you call a seesaw with glasses? A seesaw! Get it? Oh wait, I messed it up. Hold on a sec…what do you call…no wait, hold on…
The Existential Brodie:
I want the new Nintendo DS so badly that it’s all I can see. See that tree? It’s a Nintendo DS. See that fire hydrant? It’s a Nintendo DS. See that guy over there? That’s Mario.
The Optimistic Brodie:
(pointing to a Rubik’s Cube in the toy store)
Ooh, this is the one I want! Although…maybe not. I’ll probably solve it in like five minutes and then I’ll be bored.
The Analytical Brodie:
Ew, oatmeal bread?
It’s not oatmeal bread, sweetie. It’s made with oats. That’s a whole grain.
I don’t like whole grains.
You like Honey Nut Cheerios, what do you think is in that? Whole grains.
Um, I don’t think that’s true.
The Very 8 Year-Old Brodie:
(to the tune of Row Row Row Your Boat)
Squeeze squeeze squeeze your fart, gently out your butt…
The Inadvertently Hilarious Brodie:
(Pointing to a golf display)
These balls reminds me of my friend Ben.
The “Wait, You Didn’t Find Our Bong, Right?” Brodie:
Hey, what if the whole world were made of peanut butter. Would you eat the cat?
The Brilliant Brodie
So Brodie, tell Grandma what you learned while you were here.
George Bush is the worst President ever.