BB: Vhere is Tee Tee? Vhere?? Vhere??? I sent her avay de last time and now, I hef noteeng but de sadness and regret. Oh de sadness! Oh de regret! It ees an ocean and I cannot swim ‘dough I would surely float since I hear I am dis beeg fat ting called Butterball. So it is verse dan I even tot! I am lonely beeg fat Butterball!! Vhere oh vhere is Tee Tee to make everyting better???
Baby Banshee, whom I shall have to rename Banshee Girl, I think, since she’s 3 now.
I have no explanation, insight, or clue here, but it cracks me up. Look how sold out to the bit she is. The swirly eye thing is smashing her cheek down and folding her ear over but she COMMITS to the moment. That’s my girl!
“Click your heels three times, men of Sparta! For tonight we dine in hell!”
Uhm ……..
I believe Original Banshee, on the left, is supposed to be an American Girl doll? I have no idea. Frankly, she just looks like she’s dressed up for Easter to me, but what do I know? Baby Banshee, on the right, apparently went as Superman Fireman. (She recently went to a little boy’s birthday party. In that now-required gift bag that parents give out at their chirren’s parties, this boy’s parents had included his favorite things: a Superman costume and a fireman’s helmet. BB put the helmet on for trick-or-treating. She has no context whatsoever for either Superman or firemen. Guess she just liked it, is all. Funny girl. It kills me that Superman has hot pink tights.)
And as far as Banshee Boy, well, he clearly went as living proof that cuteness triumphs over all.
(I had to try to tweak the red eye in this photo and it didn’t work that well, sorry.)
~ I’m making a Savory Roquefort Cheesecake topped with the thinnest sliced pears and an apricot glaze. It’s “savory,” you see, not a sweet cheesecake at all, so MB is aflame with savory bleu cheese lust. Maybe he can spare me some of that later? If he’s able to move after all the gorging, that is?
~ Football is on in the background even when our could-win-every-game-but-simply-choose-not-to Chargers aren’t playing. It’s the soundtrack of autumn for us.
~ Seen: Random bouts of nudity. The first Christmas commercial.
~ Heard (or maybe said): “You can’t start the day grumpy at me. You have to wait til the end, when you have just cause.”
~ Tasted: Trader Joe’s Greek Honey Yogurt with granola and pears. YUM. Also coffee, of course.
~ Sometimes, like now, I sit and worry about my corrupting influence over my nephews and nieces. Yesterday, my SIL was calling Original Banshee, now 7, to come upstairs. Her reply? “I’ll be there in a minute, peaches!” Uhmmmm ………. yeah, well. Sorry, peaches.
~ Both Banshee Sisters are very interested in the whole “peaches” thing and decided, while we were driving to take them to Dairy Queen, that they too wanted to be called by some type of food moniker. Who doesn’t? So I told OB I wanted to call her Butterbean but she just squinched her nose at me and didn’t like Butterbean at all, which is totally unfathomable, obviously. She decided instead on French Toast or “Frenchy” for short.
“What will you be, Tee Tee?”
“I’m feeling kinda Pop Tarty today.”
“Okay, Poppy!”
And I was Poppy from then on.
Baby Banshee, now 3, wanted to be Whipped Cream.
“But you can call me Whipped, Tee Tee!”
MB and I started howling, shaking hard in our seats. For the rest of the day, that was her name. She insisted we call her “Whipped.” She’s our little oddling. I love her.
~ Through our bedroom window this morning, I heard the toddler boy who lives next door saying goodbye to his dad, his high-pitched voice chirping, “I will be a GOOD boy today, Daddy!” and I started to tear up, just slipping on my shoes, at the thoroughgoing innocence of it all.
~ Worth noting, I never make such promises to my dad anymore because I know I cannot keep them.
On the trampoline Sunday afternoon, under a grey scowling sky, the Banshee Sisters and I created our Halloween personas. Our little inner monsters. Our naughty alter ghouls. Oh, things happen on that trampoline, my friends. Brainstorms. Interrogations. Occasional jumping. Yes, the three of us are very busy when we’re out there, so please do not disturb us unless you’ve mentally and physically prepared for the rigors of the experience. On the other hand, if you join us — all green and unprepared-like– perhaps you’ll be the one endlessly cross-examined for a change which would be okay by me.
Each of our alter ghouls was a combination of our name and the name of someone or something creepy. For instance, mine was Tracula. Original Banshee’s ended with “zilla” and Baby Banshee’s with “zombie.” Sure, she sat on trampoline in a brown feety puppy costume, but she was The Dread Babyzombie nonetheless.
At one point “Zilla” was called inside by her mom, leaving I, Tracula, and Babyzombie alone in the grey with our ghouls.
Slowly, I began describing in detail Tracula’s appearance and powers. Babyzombie stared at me, her every-color eyes growing bigger with each new detail. Finally, my crowning flourish.
“Annnnnd,” said I for several seconds, “each of Tracula’s fingernails lifts up and dispenses candy, one kind for each nail.”
Babyzombie’s eyes officially bugged out. I pointed to each finger and began naming the candy it dispensed until she interrupted and finished the list in a frenzy of candy fantasy. My ring fingernail dispenses candy corn, did you know?
In an instant, Babyzombie was pouring out descriptions of her alter ghoul.
“And my haiw is onje, Tee Tee, and my face is pink and my fingos gib you candy!”
“Wow. You are cool!”
“Yeah.”
The briefest pause.
“And, Tee Tee, I am baaaaaaad.”
Her puppy feet wiggled with delight. Her agate eyes gleamed with the joy of untapped naughtiness.
“You are?”
“Yeah!”
“Okay!”
She cocked her head at me.
“Tee Tee, are you Tracula?”
“Yep.”
“Tracula is you?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Is Tracula bad?”
“Hm. I don’t know. I don’t think so. I haven’t decided.”
“Okay. I not bad either den.”
“Babyzombie can be bad if you want.”
“No. Dat’s okay.”
“Okay.”
But my fingos still make candy, Tee Tee!”
“Well, that’s the most important part.”
“Yeah.”
“Come on, Babyzombie. Let’s go inside. Tracula’s cold.”
And she scampered off the trampoline, her puppy feet running silently across the grass, her never-zipped costume exposing her smooth pale back and the top of her little butt as she ran into the house.
BANSHEE BOY: So. Tee Tee. Here you are ageen. Vill you never let me hef peas?
ME: Peas? Sure, you can have peas. I mean, I have carrots for you here but you want peas?
BB: No! Not peas. Peas. Peeeeas. Peas of mind.
ME: Ohh, peas of mind.
BB: Yes! Dis is vhat I say! Peas of mind!
ME: Well, I dunno, Banshee Boy. You’re 7 months old. Your life seems pretty peaceful to me. You think painful gas is the height of suffering.
BB: You no understand me at all. I veddy disappointed.
ME: I’m sorry to hear that.
BB: Please to geef me peas to suck on mushed apples in dis cone tingy you geef me. Dat is all I vant.
ME: Sure.
BB: You no need to stare at me.
ME: Uhm, sure. Sorry.
BB: Tank you. You move along now, Tee Tee.
Uhm, O’Banshee? Is it time for a little chat?
BANSHEE BOY: Tee Tee!!!! I tink I luf you!!! I KNOW I luf you!!! Tee TEEEEEEEE!!!!
BB: Tee TEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! Say you luf me too!!!!!
BB: I tink of nuttink but you!! And de jars of de Gerber pears!!! Vell, I tink of you just as much anyvey!!! Tee TEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!
BB: TEE TEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!! Please to say you luf me!!!!!! Please to say it!!!!!
BB: TEE TEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!
ME: Well, you know, I think you’re very nice.
BB: TEE TEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!
Another installment in the ongoing saga of my relationship with my new nephew, aka Banshee Boy, aka The Negotiator.
BANSHEE BOY: Tee Tee.
ME: Yes?
BB: Please to remember how I sed I vhas not moved by all your do-inks?
ME: Yeah, I remember.
BB: Vell …….
ME: “Vell”?
BB: Velll …………..
ME: “Vell,” what?
BB: Vell, I tek it all back! I eem VEDY moved by ALL your do-inks!
ME: Oh? Really?
BB: Yes, YES!
ME: That’s great, kid.
BB: I eem keptivitated by you!
ME: Oh, okay, good to know.
BB: I kennot control myself!
ME: Wow. Okay.
BB: I tink I feel de luf for you! I tink my head will splode vit de joy!
ME: Uhm, really, wow. This is getting embarrassing, Banshee Boy.
BB: I just speak de troot! Tee Tee! I luf you! I eem full of de luf for you!!
ME: Sheesh, kid. Get a grip.
BB: I do not vhant de grip!! Hold me, Tee Tee!! Please to hold me!
ME: Uhmm ……….. yeah, where’s your dad?
BB: Tee Teeeeeee!! I vill never not to feel de luf for you!!!
ME: (muttering) This is so undignified.
BB: Tee Teeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!
