My uncle lives with me.

coincidence?



Ian and I lived together in a hotel for 2.5 days. This was my first real uncle experience, and his first real nephew experience. It was difficult to choose activities, because I'm a man, and he's arguably a boy. So I tend to gravitate towards doing things that a man during the renaissance period might have done, and he's more interested in little boy stuff. So do I bring myself across to his world? Or bring him over to mine? I'm still exploring this.

The first day we did a lot, and the responsibility level for me was fresh and scary. I fed him from a glass bottle for the first time. It was at this point that I think he loved me the most for satisfying his boyish hunger, but at the same time despised my shortcomings as a mommy figure. The milk wasn't warm enough. I talked to him and poked him while he ate, whereas I realize now that he likes a calm, quiet snack. I walked him at least 4 times through the surrounding parking lots and grassy knolls. He's very happy outside, and I look forward to taking him on his first camping trip. We didn't dance.

But on the second day, we danced. I played perhaps the most engaging techno song ever recorded: "sandstorm." No words, just feelings. His bouncing was both heavy and heavenly. His oversized feet pounded the hotel hardwood like an elephant digging to china. His arms flailed like a mongoose with wings and a tapeworm. His eyes were focused on the full-length mirror in front of him, as he sized up this other little boy, his nemesis. I, his coach, danced beside him. We made poetry in the air. And it was only 9:15 AM.

The rest of the day we played poker.

The third day was a half day, and we were tired, so we just sat and talked a lot. He'll ramble on for hours. I'm not sure yet whether he is offended when I speak in his language of gurgles, bubbles, coos and "eeeeaahhh"s. Because I don't know whether he perceives his own speech as what it really is, or as proper English. I am either offending his intelligence or I'm good at making him feel comfortable in social settings. There is no in between.

He likes to grab my chest hair, because it makes him feel safe. And he loves to observe actions and think critically about design opportunities. To warm his milk, I would use the coffeemaker to heat up water. He seemed very interested in every one of my actions, as I pulled out the coffee filter, and filled the pot with water, and poured it in, and pressed the ON button, and got the bottle, and so on. If he cultivates these observational skills, he will someday be a very solid designer of objects and spaces.

Ian is my favorite being to interact with. But I would be tempted to put him down upon the chance that I might get to peer into a newly cut red cabbage.







I have an eye problem called blepharitis right now. My right eyelid is a bit droopy. And this picture was taken while I was brushing my teeth, so it looks a bit like I'm foaming at the mouth. Ian, however, always looks great, and girls like him better.