Nephew visit, aaaaaaaa!

My 12-year-old nephew is in Day 3 of his seven day visit down here. I managed to get him to the zoo today. That means we've hit all three of his big goals: laser tag, the zoo, and playing HOURS AND HOURS AND HOURS of Playstation games.

I love him to death, but I had this dreamy image of the week where we'd take long walks and have deep conversations and I'd try to impart this...huh, what to call it, certainly not manly wisdom, more like It's Okay to Be A Geekly wisdom...that would give him a little comfort for junior high. Instead I've been his cheerleader for 23 attempts at getting through the Gauntlet level of 'Baldur's Gate: Dark Alliance'. And let's not even talk about Spider-Man.

I know, I know, the irony of feeling frustrated by a boy who's obsessed with games and computers, who I can't figure out how to talk to...this irony is not lost on me. My parents must be laughing themselves silly.

Nephew Visit Journal Entry 1

Discoveries made during my first game of Laser Tag:

White t-shirts glow like a beacon under blacklight. All other shirts blend in with the darkness.

Or, in other words: Me = walking target, my nephew = ninja.

I turned around at one point and there was this whole line of little kids walking behind me shooting me in the back. They were like ducklings with sniper scopes.

Still, it's *seriously* fun. Especially when the big guy who looked like a marine wound up taking fifth place, behind the eight-year-olds having a birthday party.

Nephew Visit Journal Entry 2: Petco

We stopped in for some extra doggie treats as part of Justin's ongoing effort to convince Toby he's Alpha Kid. It turned out our timing was ideal (if you have the ideals of a 12-year-old boy): it was feeding time for the snakes and lizards.

The clerk opened the top of each cage and poured a bag of live crickets in. There were little bursts of scaly green activity all over the cages--a lot of the crickets were too large to go down in one bite, so the lizards just sorta hung out with the crickets squirming in their mouths, looking like they weren't sure what to do next.

Not all the crickets went in the cage: some fell out of the bag onto the tops of the cages and hopped onto the floor or scurried into the cracks.

The saddest part: chirping was coming from every direction, frantic chirping. All the little bugs, inches or two away from certain death, desperately looking for a mate. Insert your metaphor here.