Tales from the weekend, part 3 (final)

Sunday afternoon…

We had a family get-together with my dad’s side of the family. My dad has two older brothers who both live in the area. My mother and one of my aunts collaborated on a day to get together for a “baby viewing” and potluck. My grandmother was there, too. It was nice to see everyone there (minus one of my two first cousins – yes, I only have two first cousins), and to be able to show off Baby Boy and the Munchkin to my aunts and uncles who hadn’t seen them since January (the Munchkin) and birth (Baby Boy).

My dad’s middle brother is the uncle I remember best from my childhood. My oldest uncle and his wife lived in the Bay Area for most of my early childhood – they moved back up to the Seattle area when I was 12. Anyway, I have a special bond with my middle uncle. We permanently nicknamed each other – he still calls me “Dino” (I don’t know how, but that was a childhood nickname of mine that my family still commemorates with Dino the Dinosaur memorabilia) and I started calling him “Buddy” when I was about 2 – my siblings picked up on it and he has always been “Uncle Buddy” to us. I think even his own kids were confused as to what his real name was when they were little.

Anyway, Uncle Buddy had a strange effect on our first family dog, Kobi (who he called “Cujo” – as in the Stephen King novel – long story). Every time he came over and said hi to the dog, Kobi would automatically squat and poop. He was the only one that she ever did that for. Kobi was the sweetest, most loyal mutt a family could have, but whenever she saw Uncle Buddy coming…

So, Uncle Buddy was holding Baby Boy on Sunday, after he had just been fed, when a loud noise from down south interrupted the conversation.

“Um, I think he just went number two,” my uncle says gingerly.

I check and yes, he has pooped. I change him and hand him back to my uncle.

Five minutes later, Baby Boy poops again. At this point, I cry out, “It’s the Kobi effect!” Everyone cracks up. I change the baby again and this time, hand him to my aunt. By this point, we are telling Uncle Buddy that he is an all-natural enema, and that he brings out the best in people.

But the capping joke belongs to my dad, who then said, “Hey, I haven’t pooped in a couple of days – can I sit on your lap?”

Ahh, family.

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