Evil Kin

Younger has a convenient excuse to visit his grandparents several nights a week — internet.

“I need to use the internet, Mom,” he will tell me.

But it is often an excuse. Because the library has internet.

The library doesn’t have grandma and grandpa. And the library doesn’t spoil him rotten.

The library doesn’t  “feed him against his will.”

“I’ll just tell Grandpa I’d like pizza,” he told me one day as we sped along the highway.

“You leave your grandpa alone,” I warned him, shooting him a glance, shaking my head at his mischievous grin. “Younger . . .”

A few minutes after I arrived home from delivering him to his grandparents I received a text —

“I swear on my life, first thing he said when he came in was, ‘younger, you want to order a pizza.’ ”

Yeah, he’s fed against his will.

These grandparents are evil, evil folk.

Blow Me Over

My computer crashed.

And burned.

Elder managed to help us save a majority of the files.

But . . .

The older the files the less luck we had in retrieving them.

So . . .

All my old stories on the boys.

Gone.

Except I had sent one of my files to a cousin. She sent me a copy.

So, I have a tragedy but not as tragic as I could have had. And in the midst of the tragedy, I had one moment of joy when I found an unremembered file containing stories on the boys just before and right after Younger started kindergarten and Elder third grade. And today I thought I would share my favorite . . .

My mom called our house the other day and, by chance, which means I didn’t get there quick enough, Younger answered the phone.  And in the course of the conversation, Mom asked him where Elder was.

“Well, blow me over,” Younger responded.  “I don’t know.”

Which was an answer that amused my mother endlessly.

Now, she and Younger have a game in which they argue over who loves me the most.  Younger has at times requested, “Can you call Grandma Songbird?  I have something I gotta tell her.”  So, I dial the numbers then Younger takes the phone and announces in response to Mom’s greeting, “I love my Mommy more than you do.”

And he just cackles.  And when Mom threatens to reach through the phone and pop him in the nose, he makes me hold the receiver and yells from a distance, “I love my Mommy more than you do.”  And he cackles some more.

So, the last time Mom called, she told me, “You tell Younger that I said, ‘Well, blow me over but I love you more than he does.”

So, later, I dutifully repeated, “Grandma Songbird says, ‘Blow her over, but she loves me more than you do.’ ”

“Well,” Younger said, puffing up.  “I can tell you, she is definitely mistaken.”  And then he added in a mutter, “And she can just blow her ownself over.”

Which was an answer that amused his mother endlessly.