A Tale About a Boy, a Lion and Two Snakes

Time to shower in my diving goggles and swimming cap 😀

I have a five year old nephew. His name is Natson*. You would know about this from my About Page except it ceased to exist after I acquired this new blog-theme. The reason I need to get another blog-theme stat. I digress. Natson is one of my favorite things in this world. I have loved this guy from the get go. His mother–my sister, works out of town and so I have the pleasure of being the guardian to this little sir every weekday.

Now that Natson is all growed up he has his own bed. He calls the room he sleeps in HIS bedroom, never mind that he shares this room with his mommy. I like that about him–he knows how to mark his territory, a trait that will come in handy when he finally transitions from a boy to a man. I see a lot of boys who are pink these days. You know, the kind that like their mother’s nail polishes applied on them. The kind that like to try on a pair of high heeled shoes. Not him. He is constantly reminding us what boys should or should not do. For example, if a song is sang by a girl, he can’t sing it because he says it’s a girl’s song. He likes to do brave stuff like roaring like a lion. I mean literal roaring. Once in a while he asks us to call him “LION”. When he is watching his favorite cartoons, he pays close attention in a bid to decide who is the hero in the story. Take Tom and Jerry for example. If Tom is the one defeating Jerry, he decides that his new name is Tom. It’s easy to see that Natson wants to be a super hero. 🙂

Natson and I have a small tradition. Every morning after he is prepared for school, he comes to my room to chill with me, until it’s time for him to go get his school bus. Usually, I’m fast asleep. I discovered only today, that he first explores my room and touches everything I usually stop him from touching before he hops into my bed. This was evidenced by the open closet doors I found in the morning, when I was certain I closed them last night. He usually gets into my bed in his full school uniform–complete with his school shoes. Usually at this point, I’m on my 9th dream. So my dream is interrupted by his nudges and pushes as he makes room for himself next to me.

“Mooooooove!” he asks impatiently, prodding me with his finger. “I want to sleep here.”

I mumble something incoherent as I make room for him. “Hi daddy, how was your night?” I inquire trying to open my eyes.

“It was ok!” he says, before he starts playing with a curtain that is right above our heads.

We recently started this thing where we tell each other what we dreamt of the previous night. It is the new segment of this tradition of ours.

“What did you dream about sweetie?” I begin.

“I dreeeeaamt about two snakes. One was good the other one was bad. The good one was my friend. Theeeen… the two snakes fought. The good one beat the bad one up and ate it up.” He narrates animatedly.

“Ahhh! The good snake must have been very brave.” I quip. “Why did they fight? Did the bad snake try to hurt you?”

“No. It didn’t because the lion was also my friend.” (This boy is CRAZY about lions. Blame it on Lion King people! And Madagascar.)

It suddenly hits me that I told him I had a dream about snakes two days ago. So I figure this is a made up dream. It is time to change the subject. I don’t know why, but I ask him what our neighbour’s house help’s name is. (Such randomness happens in the morning when you are all groggy.)

“She is called Mwende!” he informs me proudly. “Also in our class… there is a girl called Mwende. Mwende is black. And she is a ka fatty!”

I smile. Ten years from now, my nephew will know not to call any girl fat. This is a lesson no one will teach him.

“What is Mwende’s other name?” I ask to change the subject.

“Natasha.” he answers shyly. “There are two Natasha(s) in our class. Natasha Mwende and Natasha Kangeli,” he offers.

My nephew can get quite chatty in the morning, so I play along and indulge him further.

“Is Natasha Kangeli also fat?”

“No. She is small” (Notice the word he uses, small not thin)

“Is she black?” I continue.

“No. She is brown,” he says half giggling.

“Do you like black girls or brown girls?” I ask playfully.

“I liiiike… brown girls,” he gushes, then proceeds to hide himself under the duvet. (In twitter we say *hides*)

I’m so amused and want to probe further, I want to ask him if he has a crush on Natasha Kangeli but I can’t. I know that this is not a good conversation to have with him just yet. Maybe when he turns seven?

That dear reader is my typical morning. I forgot one little detail in my narration though. Usually when he is in the middle of his stories, I’m overwhelmed by how sweet he is. When this happens, I inadvertently find myself smothering him with kisses, something that he completely detests. He quickly wipes himself on the kissed spot(s) and protests violently pleading with me to stop it! He is such a boy! Oh how I love my nephew.

One of the reasons I don’t want to go to hell, is because hell is the one place that is devoid of the laughter of a child.

Yeah, I just said that!

*His name has been changed.

2012

03/16

POSTED BY

Shekyn

CATEGORY

Le famille

TAGS

Blog Theme
Kids
Lion King
Madagascar
Nephew

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