Not until this trip did I fully feel the part of being Uncle Pat, and not just some guy married to a girl who's brother has some kids. The first incident, on the first day, right before the Babies went to sleep, Lola, being carried by Auntie Mary (Corrie's sister) came up to me and said, "Uncuh Pat, could you give me a dollar?" with a smile and twang that hurt me right here, the same spot that quivers in fear of every father with a cute daughter. Strangely enough I had some cash currency, but felt like I might set a bad example of being a push-over uncle, but then I found myself pulling the dollar bill out and thinking, how often are we going to get to see these kids really, and popped it twice by the edges. I was trying to hold onto some dignity, so I asked her, "Miss Lola, what are you going to do with this dollar?" To which she responded, "Put it in my pink piggy bank at home," and from there I was a lost cause.
The next day while everybody was getting ready for the ceremony and visiting, I found the quiet spot in the kitchen to clean the ramps and get them ready for the following day's feast. I heard a struggling sound, and turned to see Lola fighting with a chair with casters, fighting to push it into a position next to me, so she could climb it and "help" me with the ramps. Turns out she actually helped, without the quotes, and I remembered hearing that you should get kids involved with cooking matters, so they learn to not be afraid of the kitchen. She asked me if you could eat these things, and I smiled and showed her the one that her daddy had just eaten, and she asked my if she could eat one. A ramp is like a green onion, sort of; I mentioned it in an earlier post and I take for granted that readers understand what I mean. Raw, a ramp is a spicy-tangy mix of onion and garlic. I said Sure Lola Bell, you can go ahead and eat that one right there, which was a smaller ramp, and I thought that would, at worst, turn her off of onions for twenty years. She gobbled the whole thing up, saying, "That makes my mouth feel good." Again, the heart melts. About now Daniel sees her eating, and he joins us, eating his share as well, doing a great job helping me clean the ramps and ramp-greens, and I did my best to give a good lecture of fine dining, one that they could at least wrap their cute little heads around.
The next day, while Chris and I were getting the dinner situation figured out, we heard some laughing and squealing, and turned around and saw Daniel and Lola splashing around in the mud left over by the previous night's rain. I yanked out my camera, feeling overjoyed at the beautiful innocence of simply splashing around in mud; that simple pleasure that living as an adult all but crushes.
Now I feel like Uncle Pat. Now I am Uncle Pat.
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