What was meant as a small request from a five year old has turned into a hair pulling experience.
I don’t have children. So when my nephews and niece have a request, I am willing to do as many cartwheels and backhand springs necessary to make sure it is done. And since they live in a different state, the pressure builds to be the perfect aunt… and I always feel I fall short.
I never reach my yearly quota of hugs and kisses from them. Mainly because when I’m with them, I don’t want to be labeled “the annoying aunt” who can’t quit kissing or squeezing them. We all have had aunts like this. I often ride that fence between being loving and irritating and it takes honed skills to not topple completely over onto the wrong side.
When my sister-in-law was pregnant with my oldest nephew Clark, I wrote him a poem while on a road trip to south Florida. I was crammed in the backseat between pieces of luggage and needed to somehow mentally drown out the horrible music and out-of-tune voices coming from the front of the car. Even though Clark wasn’t born yet, I felt so much love for him. Now even at nine years old, he still proudly displays the poem on his bedroom wall. Okay, I’m sure the truth is that my brother hung it on the wall years ago just to humor me.
I never wrote a poem for my niece or youngest nephew when they were born. It’s not that I didn’t think about it… I just didn’t write them. Maybe there was just something special about the first born. Kinda like how mothers fill out those baby books for their first child and then slack off for every kid after that.
So, now I’m in trouble.
Apparently my five year old nephew, Philip, has noticed that Clark is the only one with a poem written by Auntie Becca. After a week of Philip’s complaining about not feeling the love, my brother calls me with this seemingly small request:
Him: He wants you to write him a poem.
Me: Really? He’s five. He actually cares?
Him: Becca, he won’t let up. Every night he’s asked me if I’ve called you yet.
Me: Awwww, he’s so literary at such a young age!
Him: Either that or he’s just pissed that Clark has something he doesn’t.
Me: I’d rather believe that he’s a little poet like me.
Him: Ok, whatever makes you feel better. Just write him one for his birthday, ok?
His birthday is Saturday.
THIS Saturday. Ok, I’m not going to lie. This conversation between my brother and me happened a month ago. I’d love to tell you that I immediately sat down and jotted out a beautiful poem, but my nose would grow longer than Pinocchio’s. Apparently my natural habit of procrastination even applies to meeting the needs of the world’s greatest youngest nephew.
It dawned on me today that I needed to write a poem, print it out, find a frame and mail it tomorrow. Even then Philip still probably won’t get it until Monday. See? Bad aunt. No amount of cartwheels or backhand springs will get me out of this.
All day at work I thought about the direction of the poem and I came up with no good ideas. It wasn’t until I came home from work, sat down with my laptop and forced a poem out, that I actually feel I might have written one worthy enough for my little Shakespeare. I thought about all the things his little five year old self loves. I thought about how turning six will mean that he’s now too big for a nursery rhyme and still way too young for a sonnet. I wanted him to be able to relate to the poem and hopefully not toss it aside as he grabs his brand new way cool robot. Of course if my brother’s assessment is correct, Philip will not even read the poem but yet put a mark on the “Clark vs. Philip” scoreboard. It will be interesting to see if my seven year old niece Audrey will care enough to request a poem for her April birthday. I better get started just in case.
I wanted to write a poem that expresses my cheesy love for Philip without coming across as that “annoying aunt.” Hopefully I’ve succeeded…
Oh, what a wonderful world! I love so many things!
Like squiggly lines and funny hats and a butterfly’s wings.
I love when the sky turns orange before the sun goes to bed.
And how a parrot’s feathers are blue, purple, yellow and red!
I love bananas in my cereal and sugar in my tea.
And hot fudge drizzled over a chocolate brownie.
I love that mountains are so big and ants are so small.
I love so many things! No time to list them all!
I love wishing wells, seahorses and singing in the rain.
Shower me with hugs and kisses and I never will complain!
I love counting stars at night and seeing how high I go.
And all the crazy creatures in the ocean down below.
It’s hard to imagine anything that I love more than these.
It’s Philip that I love more! He makes it such a breeze!
I love him more than roller coasters or puppies or pie.
I love him more than firecrackers exploding in the sky.
A jillion times around the world and you're still not quite there.
I love him more than trucks or robots or a furry koala bear.
There really is no end. I love him more than the highest score.
He’s the greatest youngest nephew and everyday I love him more!
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment