Show and Tell.

Okay, it's Friday and I'm not much in the mood for posting around here, but I was cleaning out my desk today when I found a Photo CD from January. So how about a little show and tell? Maybe that will get the creative juices flowing.

This is my nephew Jack. Now, when I talk about my nine nieces and nephews they're not really my nieces and nephews; that would mean Little Brother has nine kids. Little Brother actually has no legitimate children. Or illegitimate children. That we know of. And we are all very thankful for this. These little darlings are all my cousins' children.

I went to visit Jack and his brother Luke last January at their home, far away from New York city in a place where, when I got off the train, I could actually hear ... nothing. Silence. It was so weird coming from Brooklyn that I called my cousin on my cell phone and said, "You'd better come pick me up cause all these trees are freakin' me out."

Shortly after this photo was taken, Jack tired of finger painting the paper and decided it would be much more fun to paint Aunty Nancy instead. I, of course, encouraged this. I let him paint my hands, arms and a little bit of my pajamas. When his Mom saw what he had done, she was scandalized, but I assured her that I had said it was okay. This is because I will do anything to be the cool Aunty. I pretty much had a lock on "cool Aunty" when I thought I was getting the job at Sesame Street, but when that fell through, I had to change tactics.

When I lived at home and visited and played with the kids all the time, they would be excited to see me. When I saw them all last weekend, I recognized that look of far-off recognition cloaked by the more prominent, "Who are you and what have you done for me lately?" stare. Kids do not like to be left behind. Neither do I, come to think of it. Things are further complicated by the fact that my brother will make up names for me and tell the kids, who already have no idea who I am. At Christmas, when Gianni asked him to play my brother said, "I'm pretty tired, but why don't you ask Aunty Sucker? Aunty Sucker will play with you, she never says no!" Which, of course, is true.

Last week at the beach I asked Bell, "Who's on your shirt?"

"Dora!"

"Right," I said. "And who else? Who's that?"

"Monkey."

"And what's the monkey's name?" Bella just stared at me. "Boots! The monkey's name is Boots!"

"What a coincidence!" said my Brother, as he pointed at me, "her name is Boots too!"

"Right," I said to her confused face that had already lost interest. "Just call me Bootsy McSucker."