I love love my boyfriend’s nieces; they’re like the perfect kids. Because they’re children and this is public, I’ll call them Beezus and Ramona; there’s a definite resemblance to the book illustrations.
Beezus is 10, a totally fearless ball of energy and ideas; she’s almost never still. She’s super-physical, terrifying to watch on her jungle gym, and would excel at gymnastics or basketball. She wants to be a rock star like Hannah Montana when she grows up (even though her little sister is the one with the pipes), or a fashion designer, or interior decorator. She writes stories, and songs that she performs with a plastic microphone. Beezus demands audience. She’s right at that age where she doesn’t self-censor, and so reports adult conversations unedited and uncontextual, from a trip with her dad to BigLots to more sensitive topics; when she and her parents went to visit a house they were considering purchasing, she described the private second-floor apartment where her grandparents would stay when they visit: “And mommy said that if we buy this house and you and Uncle Chris get married and move here, you could live there when you’re looking for your own place. Can you come live with us so we can visit you in the upstairs apartment? Please?” she asked me, right in front of her mother. She is, though, whip-smart, and uses giant grown-up words totally knowing what they mean; it’s borderline uncanny. Two or three years ago, she read an American Girl series that took place during the Great Depression, really internalized it, and became terrified of another depression. Her mom, Cristo’s sister, promised her that wouldn’t ever happen. When the economy started to slide and Beezus’s elementary-school teacher suggested we were living through one, her mom told her “Miss Rood is a liar.” One of the many reasons I adore Cristo’s sister so much: she and my sister will totally bond; they have the exact same sense of humor.
Cristo’s younger niece is four. It’s a great age-difference; while her sister is totally self-determined, the little one’s just coming into her own personality, and so beginning to resist her big sister’s dominance right at the same time they’re starting to gel as a team (and learning how to work their parents). She might be the cutest little girl in the entire world, ever. I’m not even exaggerating. At the fabulous Kodak Theatre wedding last June she was dancing her little heart out during the reception, and two talent agents approached Cristo’s sister to hand over their cards and ask if Ramona did any acting or modelling. That’s not the first time that’s happened; they live in Los Angeles. While Beezus has her dad’s clear blue-green eyes, Ramona has her mom’s giant brown ones. There’s this really quiet observant hyper-intelligence about her. Her mom tells the story of a visit to Massachusetts where Ramona told everyone insistently for weeks that they were going to Boston to see the peacocks. And her mom corrected her, because Boston has swans. But Ramona was positive that there would be peacocks, and described them. Sure enough, they tagged along to a meeting with Cristo’s mom in a building none of them had ever been in and hadn’t known they’d be in, and Ramona dragged her mom down a hallway and up a flight of stairs to point out a stained glass window she couldn’t have possibly known existed: “See mom, the blue peacocks,” she said in an I-told-you-so exasperated tone. It kind of freaked her mom out. Ramona’s almost by necessity a softer personality than her sister, introspective without worry, and definitely a cuddler. She’s all about dressing up, stubborn about what color clothes she’ll wear, possessive of her headbands and barrettes, and insistent on wearing Beezus’s hand-me-down ballet costumes as often as humanly possible. She’s got a serious singing voice, as I mentioned, and is an imaginative incredible artist for her age, drawing or just working with play-doh.
Sometimes I really miss them, and marvel that there are these little people out in the world that I just adore so very much. I’m in no hurry whatsoever for kids of my own, but totally looking forward to being “Aunt Christine,” whether it’s aunt to Beezus and Ramona, or to my own siblings’ future kiddos.
