The Hurricane has only met her Auntie Shantel on two separate, 10-day stints.
The first time was when Layne was a month old, the second time was this past spring, I think (March? Perhaps May – I’m sure she’ll give me shit for admitting how memorable her last trip home was for me).
My sister, who’s way older than me at 30 years and 351 days (but who’s counting?), lives in London, England, where I assume she sips tea, talks about dog’s bollocks, stays away from the dentist and Minds the Gap on the Tube (if you’ve never been to London, never mind, just use your imagination in any way you see fit).
But she’s coming home today for a 10-day Christmas holiday, and boy, is she in for a world of trouble.
The Hurricane is nothing – 100%, absolutely nothing – like she was in March/May/whenever Aunt Shan was home last. She’s walking running, talking, screaming (OK, she always did that – but now they’re real words coming out), dancing, skipping, jumping, climbing, biting, hitting, chastizing the dog, her parents, her grandparents, the TV, her baby, and the remote when it falls on her toe, conversing, hugging, kissing, rocking her baby, wiping her nose – and yours, and her baby’s, and the mailman’s if she could – and playing head, toes, eyes, ears, mouth and nose (we still haven’t figured out shoulder and knees, but the gist is much the same).
Oh and she moos when she sees a cow on TV. And says “woof woof” when the neighbour dog barks or you say, ‘What does a dog say?’. And no train gets by in the distance without her saying, ‘Choo choo’, even when dead asleep.
I guess you could say she’s more of a person child human productive member of society kid (no word seems to fit here) every day.
Both of her Grandpas are used to being called ‘Papa’ now. Grandmas still can’t conjole a ‘Nana’ out of her though, which I think is good because Nana would make them sound old and they’re so totally not and it’s Christmas and they’re great cooks.
The Hurricane’s Aunt Janine (my sister-in-law that some may call evil, but really, she’s just a teacher – read post below) has experienced The Hurricane calling her ‘Neen’ both over the phone and in person.
But Auntie Shan never calls. My side of the family doesn’t talk on the phone and, though we get along just fine thanks, we’d all rather be running around a ball diamond or on a curling sheet and talking than sitting at a kitchen table having a heart-to-heart. Though we’ll do both if there’s beer involved. But Aunt Shan has pretty much just watched a few videos on Facebook, seen some pictures and read some (fantastic) blogs, and that’s it.
But we, being the greatest parents of the 21st Century (self-proclaimed, but what’s it to ya?), are being proactive and preparing for Shan’s arrival. The Hurricane can pick out her picture and says “Sha”, but the real test will be tonight, when the limey bird’s plane lands in Toronto.
So I look forward to both Shan and the little one’s reaction when they clash again.
Pretty sure I know who the winner will be.