On Cousins

When it comes to cousins, my kids have it made. Their seven cousins are 23, 16, 12, 11, 9, 9, and 5. The farthest one is just six hours away, four of them live in Blue State, and two are close enough for regular Friday nights at Grammy and Grandpa's.

On Thanksgiving they got to see everyone but T, who was at her dad's girlfriend's parents' house. First we went to Aunt E's house where they played in the snow (yes, there was snow) with LC. Then we went to my mom's where they romped madly with MM, R, N, EH, and LH (these cousins are testing my initials-only policy). There was a stirring rendition of "Three Blind Mice" on M's clarinet, R's bass clarinet, N's saxophone, and EH's glockenspiel, conducted by E and LH. There was dancing. There was climbing all over MM (the most patient oldest cousin ever). The next day M took EH to the park where she hangs out and he played soccer with the boys, while my sister took E and LH to the other park, so the big kids could hang out in independent peace. I tell you, it's cousin heaven.

My own cousinly childhood was not so heavenly. I loved my cousins dearly, but they were not age-appropriate, at least so I felt. On one side, the cousins were grown-ups--and they lived in Israel. At two, I was the guest of honor at my oldest cousin's wedding. Which is to say, we didn't exactly romp on the playground or spy on the grown-ups together, though they were excellent not-as-old-as-my-parents indulgent adults in my life, when they were around.

On the other side, well, let's just say that for most of my childhood--actually, all of my childhood--Uncle J proved inadequate on the cousin-providing front. But then he came up with Aunt M. And they came up with A.

A did not solve my age-appropriate cousin issues. I was 16 and she was a newborn baby. But she could be doted upon. And played with. And babysat. Then she grew older and she could be talked with and visited at camp and taken out for dinner at college. In other words, I tried to be an excellent not-as-old-as-her-parents indulgent adult in her life.

Then I had kids, and she truly came into her own as, yes, an excellent not-as-old-as-me indulgent adult in their lives. The playground? Sure. Another board game? No problem. Hand-me-down American Girl clothes, accessories, AND paper dolls? You got it. The funhouse at the fair? Of course. The funhouse again? Sure. And again? Why not?

I tell you, she's positively heavenly.

Happy Birthday A!