ballerina.”
Danny rolls his eyes (yes, it’s a family trait—wait till you meet Buddy. He’s the king of the eye roll). McKenna jumps out of her seat and rushes over to him, throwing her arms around his legs.
“Don’t leave me with her, Daddy! Please! Don’t go to work! I don’t want to stay with her! I hate her!”
I flinch as though I’ve been slapped. I know there are many people who hate me—for starters, all of the guests I’ve publically humiliated on the Barry and Meg Show . But no one has ever announced this sentiment in my presence. I know she’s just a little kid, but still. As thick-skinned as I like to think I am, her proclamation stings.
I move around the table and cautiously approach her, then sink to my knees to put myself on her level. She clings more tightly to Danny and tries to shrink away from me.
“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, McKenna. You see, I haven’t had my coffee yet this morning. You shouldn’t listen to anything Auntie Meg says until after she’s had coffee.”
“That’s great, sis,” Danny says. “My five-year-old really understands caffeine withdrawal.” McKenna continues to sob into his pant leg.
“Well? It’s true!” I wrack my brain to come up with some way to placate her. It takes me a minute, but I finally access something that’s been stored in my memory banks for a long time. “Hey, McKenna. Do you want to see a neat trick?”
My niece turns her head to peer at me suspiciously. She says nothing, but I can tell that I’ve piqued her interest.
“If you can find me a spoon—a clean spoon—I’ll show you a really cool trick.”
She doesn’t move, but the hiccups have stopped.
“I can find a spoon,” Danny says, playing along. “Here.” He reaches into a nearby drawer and withdraws a teaspoon. He hands it to McKenna. She shakes her head vigorously. “Come on, my girl. Give the spoon to Auntie Meg. Don’t you want to see her do a trick? I know I do.”
Hesitantly, she takes the spoon from her father and thrusts it in my direction.
“Thank you,” I say. I make a show of puffing a couple of hearty breaths at the spoon, then polish it with my shirt. I blow a few more wide-mouth breaths at it, getting it nice and moist, then place the concave section over my nose. I release my hold on the handle and put my hands in the air.
“Look! No hands!” I proclaim proudly. McKenna stares at me, stone-faced, as the spoon dangles from my nose.
It occurs to me that I have reached a new low. Never before have I humiliated myself like this. Not in all my years in radio, and in the beginning of my career I had to do some pretty stupid shit. But not like this. And for a moment, I’m worried I’ve made an ass out of myself for no reason. Then I see the corners of McKenna’s mouth curve upwards, ever so slightly. Ha!
I jerk my head and catch the spoon before it hits the floor. “Betcha you can’t do that!” I say, goading her.
“Betcha I can!” she replies. She lets go of Danny’s leg and turns to face me.
“Okay. Do you want to try it with this one or get a spoon of your own? I think you should probably get one of your own because I might have germs.”
“Or cooties,” she says with certainty, as though I definitely have them. If I weren’t trying to get into her good graces I would argue the point.
“Yeah, whatever.”
“I want my own spoon.”
I look up to see my brother staring at me with a closed-lip smile on his face.
“Hey, Dad,” I say. “Think you could get McKenna her own spoon?” He nods at me, still smiling, and I mouth the words small spoon to him. His eyebrows rise with understanding and he withdraws a tiny sugar spoon from the drawer. McKenna takes it from him and starts blowing on it madly, as though she is trying to put out candles on a birthday cake.
“Wan-see!” Tebow hollers from the high chair. “Wan-see!”
Danny steps around McKenna and pulls Tebow from his seat.
McKenna rubs the spoon on her
Danny rolls his eyes (yes, it’s a family trait—wait till you meet Buddy. He’s the king of the eye roll). McKenna jumps out of her seat and rushes over to him, throwing her arms around his legs.
“Don’t leave me with her, Daddy! Please! Don’t go to work! I don’t want to stay with her! I hate her!”
I flinch as though I’ve been slapped. I know there are many people who hate me—for starters, all of the guests I’ve publically humiliated on the Barry and Meg Show . But no one has ever announced this sentiment in my presence. I know she’s just a little kid, but still. As thick-skinned as I like to think I am, her proclamation stings.
I move around the table and cautiously approach her, then sink to my knees to put myself on her level. She clings more tightly to Danny and tries to shrink away from me.
“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, McKenna. You see, I haven’t had my coffee yet this morning. You shouldn’t listen to anything Auntie Meg says until after she’s had coffee.”
“That’s great, sis,” Danny says. “My five-year-old really understands caffeine withdrawal.” McKenna continues to sob into his pant leg.
“Well? It’s true!” I wrack my brain to come up with some way to placate her. It takes me a minute, but I finally access something that’s been stored in my memory banks for a long time. “Hey, McKenna. Do you want to see a neat trick?”
My niece turns her head to peer at me suspiciously. She says nothing, but I can tell that I’ve piqued her interest.
“If you can find me a spoon—a clean spoon—I’ll show you a really cool trick.”
She doesn’t move, but the hiccups have stopped.
“I can find a spoon,” Danny says, playing along. “Here.” He reaches into a nearby drawer and withdraws a teaspoon. He hands it to McKenna. She shakes her head vigorously. “Come on, my girl. Give the spoon to Auntie Meg. Don’t you want to see her do a trick? I know I do.”
Hesitantly, she takes the spoon from her father and thrusts it in my direction.
“Thank you,” I say. I make a show of puffing a couple of hearty breaths at the spoon, then polish it with my shirt. I blow a few more wide-mouth breaths at it, getting it nice and moist, then place the concave section over my nose. I release my hold on the handle and put my hands in the air.
“Look! No hands!” I proclaim proudly. McKenna stares at me, stone-faced, as the spoon dangles from my nose.
It occurs to me that I have reached a new low. Never before have I humiliated myself like this. Not in all my years in radio, and in the beginning of my career I had to do some pretty stupid shit. But not like this. And for a moment, I’m worried I’ve made an ass out of myself for no reason. Then I see the corners of McKenna’s mouth curve upwards, ever so slightly. Ha!
I jerk my head and catch the spoon before it hits the floor. “Betcha you can’t do that!” I say, goading her.
“Betcha I can!” she replies. She lets go of Danny’s leg and turns to face me.
“Okay. Do you want to try it with this one or get a spoon of your own? I think you should probably get one of your own because I might have germs.”
“Or cooties,” she says with certainty, as though I definitely have them. If I weren’t trying to get into her good graces I would argue the point.
“Yeah, whatever.”
“I want my own spoon.”
I look up to see my brother staring at me with a closed-lip smile on his face.
“Hey, Dad,” I say. “Think you could get McKenna her own spoon?” He nods at me, still smiling, and I mouth the words small spoon to him. His eyebrows rise with understanding and he withdraws a tiny sugar spoon from the drawer. McKenna takes it from him and starts blowing on it madly, as though she is trying to put out candles on a birthday cake.
“Wan-see!” Tebow hollers from the high chair. “Wan-see!”
Danny steps around McKenna and pulls Tebow from his seat.
McKenna rubs the spoon on her
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