tinkle tinkle, little star

As I was using the bathroom at my sister's house yesterday, my 9-year-old niece knocked on the door and told me she desperately needed to pee. I was already washing my hands at that point so I spared her the usual lecture of waiting until she was bursting at the seams to use the facilities. Seriously, the girl always has to go in the worst way the precise second someone else settles in. It's uncanny.

Hee hee. I said "can."

So, I let her in the bathroom and before I could exit, her bum was already on the bowl tinkling away.

Me: "Geez, maybe you could wait until I leave before dropping trou?"

Her: "No, it's just pee!"

God, I love that kid.

anatomy, explained

Despite my sickly ways, I managed to hoof it across the Hudson River to visit my family for Mother's Day. Fear not as I made sure to steer clear of the new baby so as not to infect her with my funk.

The So-Fucking-Cute-I-Could-Just-Smush-His-Head-One-Year-Old Nephew has a cough as bad as mine so he and I were quarantined together. I sat him on my lap and talked to him... and he pulled my hair. I tried reading him a book... and he tore the pages. It was so sweet. The fact that he's a destructive beast only endears him more to me.

He had a dirty diaper at one point and well, that was not at all endearing and I wanted nothing to do with it. I summoned his mother and she took him aside to change him. Despite the courteous distance, the changing was still within the line of sight of those of us congregated in the family room, particularly the nosy, prying eyes of The Adorable Seven-Year-Old Niece.

She's seen her cousin get changed several times and by now, she's begun to notice a pattern, in particular, his hand movements and where they tend to... uh... roam when he's diaper-less.

Today, she took her observation a step further and emphatically stated a cause-and-effect theory she had been working out in recent months:

"He's always picking at THAT THING so that's why it's so squishy."

I don't know that I completely understand her logic but, regardless, it's still brilliant.

So let that be a lesson to you boys... If your THING is squishy, we'll all know you've been picking at it.

under britney's influence

This past Saturday night, my family convened for dinner to celebrate Mama McDimple's 70th birthday. The Adorable Six-Year-Old Niece arrived at the restaurant shortly after I did and immediately claimed the empty seat to my right. We had no sooner exchanged hugs and kisses before she lowered her voice to a hoarse whisper and breathed, "I have a secret to tell you."

"You do? What is it?" I asked.

Her big green eyes widened and her lips tightened forming a super serious expression on her cute wee face. She then cupped one hand over mouth and talk-whispered, "I forgot to put on my underpants... Don't tell my Mommy."

Ah, the perils of letting children dress themselves.

Oh, and apparently The Equally Adorable One-Year-Old Nephew was caught waddling around my parents' family room the other day holding two bottles of (unopened) booze he snuck from their bar.

Yup. There's absolutely NO question these children are related to me.

my 'porchret'

The Adorable Six-Year-Old Niece launched her own start-up this past weekend. Check out what she's shilling:

In case you can't read her first-grade level handwriting and spelling, it's "Portraits for Sale. 50 Cents."

Reasonable rates, right? Naturally, I bought a few of them. Actually, I didn't even have to commission the drawings since they were waiting for me when I arrived at her house on Saturday. The drawings were intended to be a gift but once I discovered the above sign, I happily forked over the cash. Far be it from to contribute to the further starvation of artists.

Unfortunately sales weren't too good on her first day of business. Not much foot traffic in front of her "store," you see. I asked my niece if anyone walked by and she replied, "Yes, one lady did. But she read the sign and just kept on walking." The niece shrugged her shoulders and seemed incredulous that someone would pass up such a bargain. I silently seethed.

Lady, whoever you are, kindly suck my dick. Not only are you a bitch but you're missing out on a masterpiece like this:

My Porchret by The Adorable Six-Year-Old Niece
(Click to enlarge)

I think the niece really captured my essence, no? I had a few questions about the Picasso-like nose but as a sensitive artiste myself, I really can't quibble with her creative choices.

I'm representing the budding artist should any of you want to take her up on her reasonable sitting fee.

realizations and a recap

A quickie guide to my weekend...

1. Despite my Scottish heritage and the fact that I'm, like, a lesbian and stuff, I have NO aptitude for the game of golf whatsoever. For Father's Day, my sister gave my Dad this thing so that he can practice chipping the ball in the backyard. I'm athletic and can usually pick up a sport quite easily so I grabbed the chipper (is that what it's called?) and took a few swings. Let's see... I knocked one clear over the fence, sent a bunch of balls skidding past the target into a patch of Impatiens and launched the rest over near the compost bin in the far corner of the yard. I did not enjoy retrieving those. So, yes, it's safe to say that I suck at golf. Yet another stereotype smashed.

2. Christian Bale has a fucked-up grill.

3. My 10-month-old nephew (Wee Man) is babbling up a storm these days. After a few minutes of trying to place the voice, I realized that his clucks, gurgles, giggles and chirps make him sound just like Baby Smurf. It's uncanny, really.

4. Babies think sneezing is riotously funny. Parents, don't waste money on expensive toys and gadgets for your wee one. Just get a pepper mill and feather and let the fun begin. Seriously, allergies are a real knee-slapper amongst the diapered set.

5. My 6-year-old niece now knows the term "naked Twister" primarily because her dopey aunt couldn't change the radio station in the car fast enough. When asked about its meaning, I feigned ignorance and tried to change the subject. But the niece displayed uncharacteristic patience and focus and managed to figure out the definition on her own. Fortunately, she showed no interest in playing naked Twister. For now.

6. The niece banged on the bathroom door yesterday morning while I was in there getting ready. I pretended not to hear her hollering about "[having] to pooh" or whatever 'cause that's gross and I don't need to deal with that before my first cup of coffee. So I told her to wait her turn in the way that only a self-centered, childless, city-dwelling aunt can. The niece countered with the following statement: "Aunt Curly, you KNOW that I'm impastries."

Impatient, impastries... close enough. Oh and she's taken to calling certain articles of clothing "hideous." I welled up, I did.

cottonmouth au jus

I'm not dead, I swear. I was away for the weekend and didn't have access to a computer for longer than maybe five minutes at time. As you can imagine, those are less than ideal writing conditions for moi. I did, however, manage to write... on a legal pad. I haven't done that in a while. I felt so retro. Once I transcribe it, I'll have Part 10 up.

The weekend was good. But, as usual, my numbers (8 and 5) in the Super Bowl box pool were bad and I won bupkus. Why do I even bother to gamble? Lady Luck thinks I'm gross and stays far, far away. I should stop trying to court her, no?

Oh and in keeping with the tradition started last Super Bowl weekend, The Adorable Five-Year-Old Niece uttered a priceless statement worthy of a blog entry. It was out of the blue, completely lacked context and said with a dead serious face:

"Sometimes my mouth feels like I just ate roast beef."

The thing is, despite my veggie leanings, I understood exactly what she meant. I ask you -- is there a better way to bond with a child than by explaining the finer points of a Tic-Tac? I think not.

on baby showers and being the seed of chuckie

We threw a baby shower for the second oldest McDimple Girl on Saturday. She gots lots of nice stuff including a GORGEOUS handmade quilt from the lovely and talented Filomena.

I really despise showers but I have to say that we ran an efficient and relatively painless one. The good thing about baby showers is that most of the presents are big (strollers, bouncy seats, etc.) so, unlike a bridal shower, you don't have to sit through the torture of opening one place setting after another. I seriously want to commit hari-kari at bridal showers.

I'm just glad it's done. The sister started her maternity leave so all that's left to do now is to patiently wait for the end of August when the newest member of our brood arrives. Her girth is mostly contained to her belly so if I'm to believe the old wive's tale, I'm going to have a nephew to spoil (as opposed to the belief that a girl "steals your beauty" which means the face, ankles and everything else spreads and widens to freakish proportions.) My sister is all belly. But really, boy or girl makes no difference to moi. I'm just looking forward to another baby's powdery head to smell and kiss.

It was a really enjoyable weekend. Lots of giggling and good food. I stayed at the oldest sister's house on Friday night. The youngest McDimple was there already so we had a few drinks, chatted and half-watched General Hospital on SOAPnet. I used to follow that show religiously but I'm completely lost now. Who the fuck are these people? And how come Mac is no longer Australian? Isn't he Robert Scorpio's brother? I distinctly remember Mac washing ashore in Port Charles with a thick (yet very fake) Aussie accent. And now he sounds like he's from Ohio. WTF?! I guess the powers-that-be can add and drop accents without worry since they have no qualms about completely replacing actors mid-run. Like, who is this broad playing Felicia now?! Again, WTF?!

ANYhoo, as I was getting ready for the shower on Saturday morning, The Adorable Five-Year-Old Niece joined me in front of the bathroom mirror. She likes to help me get ready so I usually let her put a tiny bit of pomade on her fingers and work it through my hair. She believes that by doing that, she's solely responsible for the curl. She takes great pride in it, as a matter of fact.

After putting the finishing touches on my mop, the Niece watched intently as I applied lipstick. When I was done, she said, "You look like a doll."

I wasn't sure if that was a compliment because, well, some dolls are really scary looking, what with those freaky eyes and that dull hair.

"Excuse me?" I asked as visions of Chuckie danced through my head.

"You look like a doll."

"Um, is that a good thing?"

It turns out it was. She couldn't quite articulate why but she was at least able to reassure me that she meant it in a nice way. It's a little bizarre to have a kid who's five tell me, a 31-year-old woman, that I look like one of her play things but whatever, I'll take the compliment.

poppin' a [re]cap in your asses

I had a rather eventful weekend. The highlight was, without a doubt, the New York Burlesque Festival. I attended Friday night's opening salvo and, my oh my, I had quite the time of it. I was positively dumbstruck by the amount of stunning, fashionable women twirling their pastie-clad boobies around.

Leading the charge was the illustrious Creamy Stevens, aka The Roommate of The Lovely Jess. Not only is she stunning, but she's got a killer act. J'adore Creamy Stevens. Go see her perform with Starshine Burlesque every Thursday night at Rififi. She and the entire troupe will not disappoint.

I took a few pictures of the festival. CAUTION: While there are no nips to be found, I do suggest using discretion before clicking on the link if you're at work.

Most of my Saturday was spent in Jersey. It was quite the contrast and come-down from Friday night's flesh fest but I'm getting some work done on mah teefs and needed to visit my dentist (two more visits and I'm done. RAWK!) Fortunately, his office is five minutes from my sister's so after having my choppers poked and prodded, I headed back to her house for some BS and a bout of ball-playing in the backyard with The Adorable Five-Year-Old Niece. I was hating life afterwards thanks to my allergies but the memory of that little girl's incessant and infectious giggle as we played keep-away was far more therapeutic than 10 mg of Loratadine.

Oh and I also taught her how to snap the tops off dandelions while singing, "Mama had a baby and its head popped off!" It's really important to hand down traditions to the next generation, you see.

The Younger Sister, she of the ill-timed keg stand, also stopped by on her way to a wedding "down the shore." We sat around drinking coffee, knoshing on bagels and discussing... the wonders of the Dyson vacuum cleaner. We're either a) getting old or b) at a loss for good conversation topics. But in true McDimple fashion, we made it interesting. Now, none of us are lucky enough to own one of those expensive bad boys but that did not stop us from cooing over its new roller-ball technology (that makes it easy to swivel around corners) and, of course, its superiority over its "hopelessly clogged" competitors. The McDimple Girls sweat the Dyson.

The Niece then approached me with a box of colored chalk and requested my presence outside to decorate the sidewalk. She was SO on. I excitedly followed her and we quickly filled the walk in front of her house with pictures and letters.

Playing with chalk is fun. When I was a nanny, I drew an elaborate construction scene on the path near the 79th Street Boat Basin. People stopped to watch me draw as my two charges encouraged me and offered suggestions. They and passers-by were thrilled with my rendering. I felt all cool and crap.

Whenever my niece asks me to participate in a creative activity, I jump at the chance. I love that she's able to express her imagination and energy through art. And I seize the opportunity when she shows interest because when she doesn't have a crayon in her hand, that creativity is sometimes expressed through mischief. Truthfully, it's kinda funny but she's becoming increasingly destructive the older and smarter she gets.

So outside we went with the chalk. I'm LOVING the fact that she's a budding artist. She takes amazing pictures with my camera and her drawings get better each time I see her. For example, on Saturday she drew a whale and it was really good! And then she drew another whale and made the eyes heart-shaped to signify that this whale was in love with the first one. The Younger Sister suggested she attach the words "Hubba Hubba" to firmly cement (if you'll pardon the pun) their attraction. I then had her draw two whales mouth-to-mouth and taught her the universal cartoon word to depict kissing: SMACK!

So, before long, the entire sidewalk was littered with pictures of humpbacks macking on each other. It was quite the scene. I'm pissed that I didn't have my camera with me as I'm sure pictures of soft-core whale porn would make my blog traffic soar. Actually, that sentence alone will no doubt do it.

next week we teach her how to funnel...

This past Saturday was the youngest McDimple's annual raucous bash to coincide with her town's St. Patrick's Day parade. The oldest McDimple, with the husband and the Adorable 4-Year-Old Niece in tow, attended the parade and an after party right around the corner from the youngest sister's building. Afterwards, they paid a wee visit...

Things were in full swing by the time they arrived. The youngest sister was, shall we say, enjoying herself. In other words, she was totally lit. When sober, she is very practical, responsible and wise beyond her years. She is slightly less so when inebriated. The girl is prone to removing her shoes and commandeering microphones at bars. It's very entertaining for us but not so much for her when she can't find her shoes and is reminded of her off-key screeching of "Just Like Heaven" in front of a jam-packed bar the night before.

Anyhoo, after several hours of drinking, the younger sister was coaxed into performing a keg stand. Yes, a keg stand. All 5 feet 11 inches of her. I'm quite certain she hasn't done one of these since college so the oldest sister really had no indication that a gymnastic routine was on the agenda when she brought her impressionable daughter along.

Upon seeing the youngest's antics, she quickly scanned the room for the niece in an effort to shield her innocent eyes from the proceedings. Too late. The niece saw the whole thing and promptly began practicing headstands while announcing, "I want to go next!"

Oops.

My sister was a little concerned about sending the niece to school today since she has a tendency to broadcast family matters to her teachers, classmates and anyone else who will listen. If the Department of Youth and Family Services shows up at my sister's door and hauls her off in handcuffs, we'll know she blabbed.

a couple of quick niece-isms

I spent the weekend in Jersey with the McDimples attending a going-away soiree for a family friend as well as a "Soup Bowl" party, as The Adorable 4-Year-Old Niece called it. That was just one of the many doozies she uttered this weekend:
:: One of her favorite books is No, David!. In the story, David is a wee punk constantly being reprimanded by his mother and father. Since the niece is prone to defiant, stubborn behavior herself, she found herself a kindred spirit in David. While reading the book together, I questioned, "Do you do all the bad things David does?" "Only one of them," the niece replied. "Which one?" I asked. The niece then sheepishly mimicked sticking her finger up her nose and said, "But I'm stopping."

Now, I've heard the "But I'm trying to quit" excuse applied to smoking plenty of times but nose-picking is most definitely a first. Regardless, I support her quest to kick the disgusting habit.

:: When I'm home, I'm expected to go to church. As I've said here before, I don't get anything out of it but I don't fight my mother on this issue. I just go and shut up about it. On Sunday morning, the niece was in charge of waking me up. She poked me a few times and said, "Are you going to mask?"

:: During a road trip to the cousin's house, the niece occupied her time in the car by singing to herself. Before long, the whole McDimple clan was singing along with her: "Ann Marie and ivory..." I'll never sing the correct words again. Um, not that I find myself singing that particular song all that much but you know what I mean.

:: The niece wears a yellow Livestrong bracelet in honor of a family friend who succumbed to cancer last year. When someone asked her about the meaning of her bracelet she explained, "Sick people and cool people wear them." "Well, which one are you?" "Cool," she lazily replied.

I should have plenty more of these in a couple of weeks because she's coming to my tiny wee studio for a sleepover. When I told her I planned to take her to a Broadway show, the Central Park Zoo and several other attractions, she became visibly excited. I asked what she was looking forward to most and without hesitation she exclaimed, "Popcorn!" Looks like I'm going to be scaling down my plans a bit...

a few notes from the past week...

To the scary-looking dude on the subway selling "Milk chocolate! Straight from Pennsylvania!": Technically, Hershey's chocolate is from the Keystone State but methinks you stole your stash from Duane Reade. Please don't act like you braved Route 80 (or whatever highway goes to Hershey, PA) to get it. I'm onto you, man. You don't fool me.

To the person in my office who think it's okay to nuke fish in the microwave: It's not. I don't think there's ever a good time to smell irradiated flounder, but it's particularly trying while at work. So knock it off. Right now.

To Ivana from The Apprentice: I caught your little act on the Today show this morning explaining that "fatigue" made you drop your drawers to sell M&Ms. Ivana, today you achieved the impossible -- you made me hate you more than I already do. I thought I had a threshold for such bitter contempt but apparently, I don't. So congrats! At least you accomplished something during your tenure.

To my darling 4-year-old niece: While I think it's adorable -- and very health-conscious -- that you sing, "I like steamy chicken," the actual words to the Applebee's jingle are "I like steak and chicken..." Kindly stop correcting everyone.

To George Steinbrenner and Brian Cashman: If you don't tear up Jason Giambi's contract immediately, I'm going to tear you both a new asshole, assholes!! Bring back, Tino. NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!

high art

I spent most of yesterday hanging out with The Adorable 4-Year-Old Niece. In an effort to lengthen her attention span and break her addiction to TV, the whole family has been trying to encourage her to engage in other activities. It's starting to work because I caught her sitting by herself coloring in her Clifford coloring book. For once, she didn't feel the need to talk over people while performing attention-getting dances or a striptease. Oh yes, she's already resorting to clothing removal and flashing to get noticed. This does not bode well for the future. Girls Gone Wild, anyone?

I can't pass up a kid with a coloring book so I joined my niece on the floor and we got to work. Unfortunately, she scribbled over EVERY page in her coloring book and I just can't work under those conditions so I grabbed some blank paper instead. I love to draw but sadly, I don't have the time to do it anymore. It felt good to bust out the paper, markers and crayons while spending quality time with the niece. I asked her if she had any requests. One of these days, I WILL learn the lesson that this is a BIG mistake. Rarely do kids want a picture of a cat or a balloon or something. They want entire landscapes with their favorite characters engaged in epic battles or attending some extravagant gala complete with a horse-drawn carriage. And they want it done in 5 minutes. I can usually reason with them and manage their expectations slightly. If they push back too much, they get a half-assed smiley face or a sorry-looking dog with "WOOF!" in a dialogue bubble coming out of its mouth.

The niece requested I draw a picture of her and her two friends on a ride at Hershey Park. She recently went there and hasn't shut up about it since. According to her, the ride she wanted me to draw was a sled of some sort. I couldn't even imagine what that ride might look like so I said fuck it (to myself, of course) and drew her and her friends in the front car of a roller coaster. A few hours later, her mother was able to translate that the niece meant the Himalaya. I'm sorry but I've been on the Himalaya elsewhere and "sled" is not the first thing that comes to mind when thinking of that ride. In my experience, it's been a high-speed, gyrating hangout for screaming guidos.

The niece had an issue with it at first but she came around. But not before she corrected me on her seating position. She was sitting in the middle, not on the end as I had envisioned her. She also told me that she didn't own anything resembling the tank top with a daisy on it that I had clothed her in. She questioned every pencil stroke and disagreed with most every decision. She could not wrap her brain around the shortcut technique I used to draw the people in the cars in the background. I kind of cheated and just made them out of circles for the heads and sticks at a 45-degree angle for arms. I must say that arms were raised in a joyful "WHOOOOOOOOOOO!" gesture and they looked quite happy. The effect, in my opinion, worked.

"Where are the grown ups? How come my mommy's not with us? How come we went on a big kid ride by ourselves?" the niece inquired. I quelled her fears and told her that this picture was set in the future. I assured her that they were all old enough and met the height requirement to go on the ride unattended. If the niece doesn't end up being an art director or critic of some sort, my money is on social work or risk management.

As I began coloring in the picture, she started perking up as the image came to life. She was OVERJOYED when I colored one of the people in the background green to signify that he was on the verge of puking. She also now knows what the word "puke" means, by the way. When I told her that her friend was in the line of vomit fire, you would have thought that I gave her the key to a candy store and told her to run wild. She was in hysterics. I had won her over. She was totally on board with my artistic vision. She carried around the picture for the rest of the day and told everyone about the nauseous guy on the ride and how her friend was going to be covered in puke soon. It's her new favorite story. She no longer is repeating rather tawdry lines from Jimmy Neutron and SpongeBob. Um... score?

A drawing frenzy ensued after this. I tried to make the next exercise a bit more educational. I became overjoyed when she recited the alphabet and wrote down the letters in very mangled handwriting. We sounded out the letters and she gave me a keyword for each which I then illustrated. She came up with apple, banana, cookie, dog, elephant... and then she went off on a tangent about clowns so that ended that little lesson.

The niece HATES clowns. She was taken from a birthday party screaming and shaking because a clown showed up honking a horn. I can't say I blame the kid. Yesterday she decided she needed to put in writing exactly how she feels about clowns. "Make a sign that says 'No clowns allowed!'" I'm all about the anti-clown propaganda so I happily obliged. I began with the nose. She looked uneasy and said nervously and quietly, "I didn't think it was going to be that big." I crumpled up the paper and began again. Once the proper proportions were agreed upon, I got busy. Just as I was finishing up the universal symbol for "no," she had a slight change of heart. "Well, maybe we can make another sign that says, 'Yes, clowns for other kids allowed.'" Okey dokey. I illustrated her flip-flopping stance on two separate signs. She was pleased.

I took a few more requests and then I set out on my own mission: drawing a sandcastle on the beach. I sketched it out using burnt sienna, maive, chestnut and several other colors to get the desired shade and texture of sand. I created a turret and a tower with a hollowed-out window. I was pleased with my progress. The niece said, "You need flags on that!" and began drawing random strokes on my paper. With blue-violet crayon!!! BLUE-VIOLET!!! Or was it violet-blue? No matter, it didn't match! It wasn't in my predetermined color palette. I was pissed. So I leaned over and drew a random line on her egg-octopus-with-creepy-smile man thingy. She didn't like that one bit and protested. Tough noogs is what I had to say to that.

But that's the risk you run when you color with kids. I love to sit down with a box of crayons and a fresh page in a coloring book and just start coloring away. What I don't love is when kids say, "Oh let me help you!" and proceed to deface my otherwise pristine work of art with random scribblings. I know I'm supposed to applaud their dexterity and creativity and all that... but that shit annoys me. I'm at an age where I not only have enough fine motor control to stay within the lines and go all in one direction but I also understand shading, smudging, contour, cross-hatch and other techniques. I don't need some snot-nosed punk messing up my picture.

I have to say that I've gotten quite good at quickly snatching things away fast enough while saying, "No, get your own!" I fully realize I'm supposed to be mature and should set a good example and all that other crap but this is definitely an issue of respecting boundaries and OPP. Today it's someone else's page in a coloring book, tomorrow it's tags on buildings and scratchings on subway car windows. You say neurotic and OCD on my part, I say civic-minded and responsible.

the first in a long line of niece stories

I've got a 4-year-old niece. Even though she's the light of my life and the reason behind many a smile on my face, I will readily admit that the girl is a punk. She's quite cheeky and very spoiled. But she's also got almond-shaped green eyes, long eyelashes, strawberry blonde hair and an outrageous set of dimples. That little girl can infuriate me one moment and then completely melt me the next.

She sits on my lap facing me and tries to make sense of the curls sprouting from my scalp. She likes to pull on the corkscrew ones and say, "Boing!" when they spring back into shape. This cracks her up. Sometimes she messes around with my hair so much that she pulls the curl right out. This disappoints her and she asks me to make it curly again as if I can just wiggle my nose or snap my fingers to make it happen. She doesn't understand that I'd have to wash it, apply product, let it dry a bit, add more product, let it dry some more and then crunch some more product into it to get the spiraling effect. Passage of time and procedures make no sense to her.

The girl has quite a reputation for saying some howlingly funny things. We could tell from the smile that snuck across her infant face any time she peed in her diaper that she was going to be a character. Months later when she was of Zweiback-eating age, she was being videotaped by my oldest sister (the mother) as she munched on a cookie. Proud of her snack, she mashed it into a clenched fist and held it up to the camera. Thanks to slippery fingers and sheer physics, one finger popped out. Guess which one? There is actual footage of my niece flipping off my sister at a very early age. It's priceless.

The niece tends to pick up a phrase or a word and then, like most children, will run it into the ground. My younger sister (not the mother) often forgets about this and will inadvertently introduce slang or other inappropriate sayings into this child's vocabulary. I believe the younger sister playfully patted the niece's diapered bum a few years ago and said, "Look at this big booty."

It was on. The niece used it incessantly after that. She would even hunch over and wiggle her backside while singing, "Shake your booty! Shake your booty! Shake your booty!" It seemed harmless enough at first but she almost tripped a waitress in a restaurant when she sprang from her seat and began her floor show. Our fellow diners looked on with reactions ranging from amusement to concern to horror. Now that I think about it, that waitress got served. Ha ha ha.

On another occasion, the younger sister and my father were having a conversation in the dining room. The niece wanted attention so she began talking over them at full volume. The younger sister said to the niece, "We're going to get you a muzzle!" The niece then turned to my father and said, "Pop Pop, you need a muzzle!" There was laughter and prodding to go into the kitchen to tell Granny what Pop Pop needed. So the niece set forth to deliver this news to my mother. Everyone waited to hear the bit about the muzzle. The niece blurted out, "Pop Pop needs booty!" Oh dear. I don't even think my mother understood the context of it. She just thought my niece was being scatological once again. I laughed hysterically when I first heard the story and then I quickly sobered up and said, "Hey, how does Dad know what that means?" That was a bit disturbing. After some thought, we decided that he secretly watches MTV and other youth-oriented programming but quickly changes the channel when someone enters the room.

The niece is now hung up on poop -- as a noun, verb, adjective, you name it. Recently she went a bit retro and trotted out her old act. She was watching one of her videos and was perplexed at the mention of DNA. She asked her mother about its meaning. My sister punted the question to the younger sister who is in the medical field. The younger sister fielded it and began a kid-friendly explanation of DNA. She told the niece that it was the stuff inside of her that made her different from everyone else. It made her HER and all that jazz. The niece absorbed this information and said, "Oh, it's what makes your booty smell?"

Can I just say that it's really hard to discourage poopie talk when the lecture is delivered through stifled laughter, smirking and a shit-eating grin (pun intended)?!?! Fortunately I didn't have to handle that little episode. When it's my turn to be the disciplinarian, I try to do the right thing with my niece but it's hard. Is it wrong that I'm a little bit proud of her burgeoning inappropriate sense of humor?