Tonight, I am recovering slowly from a vicious cold, so I thought I would share a story from 2001. Elder would have been five and Younger would have been two and my youngest sister would have been married for a grand total of four months . . .
Elder, Younger and I traveled to Columbia last Thursday to visit Aunt A and Uncle J in their new home for the first time. We took the grand tour of the one-bedroom apartment then ordered a pizza and waited for Uncle J to make it home.
When both Uncle J and the pizza had arrived, Elder asked Aunt A, “How many kids are you going to have?”
Now, Elder expected Uncle J and Aunt A to pick up some kids at the back door of the church after the wedding ceremony. While everyone was eating cake and drinking punch, he asked me, “Will Uncle J and Aunt A bring the kids to Grandma’s now?”
Then the next weekend, when the entire family, including the newlyweds, met at Mom and Dad’s for lunch, he asked Uncle J and Aunt A, his brow wrinkled in confusion, “Where’s your kids?”
Aunt A, who must have confused me with the evil sister, asked me if I had prompted Elder’s sudden interest in her having kids as retaliation for all her questions when my husband and I first dated then married. With wide-eyed innocence, I assured her Elder was capable of manufacturing those questions on his own.
So, used to Elder’s avid interest in her producing offspring in short order, Anita answered, “Fifty. Sound good?”
Elder, standing in the middle of her living room, stretched both of his arms outward, indicating the entire small apartment. “Aunt A,” he chided. “Look at the size of this place.”
See? Quite capable of coming up with such things on his own.
And I’m not the evil sister after all.