My husband and I have an interesting effect on children. Since we are not parents ourselves, we rather enjoy handing kids back to our friends at the end of the day, hyper and hopped up on sugar. It's kind of like being the irresponsible and hip aunt and uncle.
As a music teacher of 500+ students, I spend all day keeping children under control. And I think Dan is just a big kid himself. So when we interact with other people's children in a social setting, we let our immaturity flags fly.
One evening, Dan and I went on a bike ride with some church friends, mostly adults. One of our friends had brought along her nephew though.
The three of us - Dan, the young boy, and I - rode ahead of everybody else. Once we were out of ear and eye shot, Dan started popping wheelies, bunny hopping, and riding with no hands - "Look, Ma!" - as we pedaled down the greenbelt. Pretty soon, our little friend was mimicking Dan's mad biking skills.
Dan and the boy rode down the path in silence, side by side. Dan would hop up on his bike, and our friend's nephew would hop up. Dan would let go of his handlebars, and our friend's nephew would let go of his handlebars. Dan would pop up on his rear wheel, and our friend's nephew would pop up on his rear wheel. At one point Dan was so consumed with flaunting his bicycle trickery that we almost lost the kid. He soon caught up with us, not be outdone by his new biking buddy. I felt much better when I heard the little boy admonishing the BMX riders we passed for not wearing helmets.
"At least we didn't completely corrupt him," I said later to Dan. "He still believes in wearing a helmet."
Our less-than-adult influence has also extended beyond Idaho. Dan and I visited some friends in Ohio one summer. They had two children at the time, both boys. I am afraid we might have left them completely wound up by the time our stay ended.
The oldest boy, a preschooler, called me "Bocky" (imagine a glottal stop on the 'ck') and Dan "Mister" or "Dennies" depending on his mood. He was so excited that he would repeat everything three or four times.
Dan and I encouraged his constant chatter. I laughed at everything he said because it was soooo cute, and Dan would periodically put his sunglasses on the back of his head, prompting fits of giggles and a loud "Mister!" from the little boy.
One time, while we were in the car, Dan was sitting between the two boys and was too busy goofing around with his sunglasses and the preschooler that he failed to notice the youngest boy was sticking his fingers down his throat.
"Dan, I think he's choking!" I exclaimed.
"Oh, yeah," my friend said calmly from the driver's seat, "he chokes himself sometimes. Don't let him do that. He makes himself throw up."
That afternoon, we were in a gift shop with my friend and her two boys. The oldest really, really wanted one of the Thomas the Train DVDs.
"We can't get it today. It's too expensive," my friend told him.
"Okay," he said. "C'mon, Bocky!"
He ran over to me, grabbed me by the hand, and dragged me across the store, all the while proclaiming (as all the women in the store grinned at him and murmured about how funny he was), "It's too 'SPENSIVE! We have to go, Bocky! It's too 'SPENSIVE! C'mon, Bocky! It's too 'SPENSIVE!"
Of course, my friend had other devious, motherly plans. As soon as she could get her little boy to let go of me, she handed me some cash and whispered, "Would you mind going back and buying the DVD in secret? His birthday's in a few days."
I did gladly. Being the cool aunt-type is fun when you get to take part in the clandestine missions that only parents know how to orchestrate.
I am pretty sure life went back to normal for our friends after we returned to Idaho. But Bocky and Mister Dennies left a trail of hyperactive energy in our wake. Hopefully, we didn't cause too many sleepless nights.
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