there comes the point when they will believe no one understands them, and truly, I may forget also, that there was such a time as this, when only I and one other understood them.  (draft from 6/30/18)

2012! Wow! It's a day into 2016 and they haven't murdered me in my sleep yet!

Ender wrote a story on an-old school typewriter.  Here it is:


Ender And The Pelican

by Ender J. Teco

When Ender was six years old, he had his tonsils taken out.  It hurt a lot.  Ender had a hard time eating, but at least he got to stay home from school.

He didn't miss his friends but they missed him.  He stayed at his grandmother's house.

On Friday, Ender went back to school.  His teacher, Miss Harden, said "I missed you!"

"I missed you, too."

At the end of school, Ender met up with his twin brother, Remy.  As they started to go meet their uncle Memo, a big grey pelican swooped down and landed in front of them.  The pelican opened his huge mouth and said, "Why did the pelican get kicked out of the restaurant?"

"I don't care!" said Ender.

The pelican said "Because he had a very big bill!"

"Ha ha ha!" laughed Ender and Remy.  "Very funny!"

The End

According to Carola:

"He looked me and gave me a purple enveloped, he did it with a paper sheet and type, his eyes don't care how he could be sick, they continue shining; happy birthday Caro, it's for you!! 
I opened my present and my breath stop. He looked me i

n silence then I told him, Ender but your nana bought it for you!! And he answer me, I choose it for you, is me. I pretended to wanted it because I want to give you something for your B-Day!!! After that I started to cry

My little man, Ender."

Ender had been home for the past week after having his tonsils and adenoids removed.  He lost a few pounds and was in a great deal of pain.  His voice was weak but high and clear like birdsong; sounded not quite like his old voice.

My mother had been caring for him and as he felt better she would take him on errands with her.  When they stopped at an office supply store, Ender asked my mother for a Captain America thumb drive.  My beloved mother is not terribly savvy about information tech so she didn't really question what a six-year-old needs with a flash drive.  

Ender has shown remarkable proficiency with mechanical doo-hickies.  He has long since mastered my digital camera.  Most recently, I taught him to use Brian Y's old 1930's typewriter.  A unique feature is the lack of exclamation point.  To make one, I have to type an apostrophe, backspace, and then type a period beneath.  

Not terribly complex, really, but Ender remembered it with ease.  Better than me, anyway.

I try to be careful about assessing the twins' abilities since it is so easy to try to gauge them by my half-formed notions of what intelligence is.  

Ender would probably be described as "sensitive," but with that comes his ability to empathize and predict intentions of others.  It's a vital skill, though it certainly can be overwhelming at his age, and any age.

Took the boys to see "The Avengers" on Sunday.  Ender dressed up as Captain America and Remy dressed up as Thor.  They thought it was pretty awesome.

The only part that was too intense was the trailer for "Prometheus" before the film.  Some kinda scary music in that one.

The boys are growing ever more intelligent.  They are reading fairly well.  I told them that books will tell them most of the things that other people won't take the time to explain.  At the moment, they are quite taken with my copy of "Human Body" (Doring Kindersley Limited, London) with its many illustrations.

I was sitting in bed reading my 4th book in "The Horus Heresy", pulpy science fantasy based on the Warhammer 40K table top game, and they would periodically ask questions.

"Look at those!" Remy said as he pointed at an illustration of a woman's body.

I glanced over.  "Yes, those are breasts."

"I want to see breasts!"

"Well, yeah."

The boys and I are moved in to the Tempe house. Daily rocking and assorted snack treats requirements are meeting expectations and even exceeding in many cases.

While I have been working less, the twins have been able to sleep in, eat a full breakfast, watch Qubo (Canada's finest cartoons) and generally chill. I seldom rush to get them in earlier than 9 am. When Barbara has to take them, the boys could be there as early as 7:30 and my mother might not pick them up until five.

Long day for anyone, let alone those two.

My schedule for next week is unknown to me. There are certainly elements of lazing around all day that I enjoy. I'd hoped I would discover some grand industrious self but alas, only a dabbler.

When I pull into the gravel parking area in front of their school a little play ensues. I step out of the car and before I close the door Remy says "You lost us!" Remy was the first to say it; now they both do. I crunch along to open the passenger door. When I do they smile and say "You found us!" They jump out of the car and then we head on into school.

The first time Remy said I lost him and I had not yet learned to play the game, I paused before I shut my door. "No, I haven't lost you. But I suppose I will, eventually."

Not in the dramatic life-loss sense. My relationship with my nephews is growing and changing, just as they are. In our time together I expect to lose them and find them many, many times.

Fortunately for them, I am an excellent finder of lost things.

The twins and I ditched preschool and spent the morning watching fine cartoons such as "Maisy" and eating chocolate donuts, sugary cereals, cheddar-flavored crunchy corn twists (Cheetos TM) and washing it all down with fruit punch that claimed to contain along with all the corn syrup the equivalent of an entire grape, though which species of grape was undisclosed so the exact percentage of actual fruit juice is unknown to me.

After a harrowing drive without car seats, we picked up the car seats from Barbara's work and were on our way to the Phoenix Children's Museum. All the delights awaited us, including most of the school buses packing up their students and leaving the place just about deserted. Mmm...desserted.

The museum is mainly a series of contraptions that the kids can fool around with while subtly learning about important science principles such as air pressure and chaotic variables and car washes. There is also an art project room. We painted a large castle. The only color available was yellow, which is a fine color for a castle, but I didn't steal any other colors because I didn't want to get kicked out. We'd only just got there.

We played with puzzles. Ender served pizza from the pizza puzzle to the crab from the sea creature puzzle. Ender, Remy, and the crab were delighted.

We left the museum after two hours and went to my work at the cat and dog rescue. A massive Doberman named Achilles was playing in the yard. It is important for me to know which dogs play well with children so I threw Ender and Remy into the yard with him. Achilles is slightly taller than the two of them so there was a risk of his bulk knocking them down. He licked their faces in greeting and then went back to playing fetch with Jeremy, one of the volunteers. Doesn't try to eat children; good to know.

I must confer with my boss to see if I can bring my nephews in to evaluate the dogs' response to them and perhaps get a bit of pay out of it. No sense risking their lives for free, after all.

Halloween is almost upon the nephews. Remy has a Bakugan costume in which he looks quite dapper. Ender has no costume yet, but there are schemes to place him in his mouse costume from last year and equip him with a sword and feathered cap. Reepicheep shall live again.

Remy has a bit of a fever this morning, about 101 degrees Fahrenheit. He doesn't seem terribly unhappy and is lying on the couch watching Maisy. That Maisy is off the chain. She does what she wants. I approve of this crudely-drawn show.

Ender had a fever last week. Spent a lot of time watching Wall-E. We watch and name the things we see. Both twins are getting pretty good at identifying garbage and astral phenomena. "Atari."

"Spork!"

"Nebula."

"Sputnik!"

Excellent. Their training is coming along well. I will also pull up Youtube videos of space shuttle launches and animations. What I would like is a Wall-E guided tour of the universe. Wall-E could travel through space and observe all sorts of stuff. Maybe even a DVD menu where you plot your own course.

Damn you, Disney. These kids could be geniuses if you weren't so busy trying to market every single lamp post that appears in a Pixar film. Oh Pixar. It was nice while it lasted.

Seesee

Ender and Remy remember Luis. I wonder now, if they ever wonder where their other uncle is. Remy, I suspect, has a sharpish memory. Far less now, but often when Kelly and I first took up in his old room, I would open the door and from another room I would hear the nephews shout ''See-see!''.

They come zooming around the corner now and they find me, only me.

This doesn't happen often now. I don't think it may happen again, it has become so rare. I am not sure how I feel about that.

I have a favorite t-shirt of The Boy's. I keep it near. Remy jumped upon me as I was trying to take a late afternoon nap. He spyed the shirt and jabbed his finger at it. "See-see!"

Remy only saw the back of the shirt which readS 'Luigi'. I am not ready to think that Remy can read and I believe it must have been the redness of the shirt that he recognized. None of us has a shirt of deep red with white lettering.

Except now, me, I suppose.

I hope I remember to ask Remy about it when he is able to verbalize the more abstract, such as loss and grief and puzzlement and impotent, directionless, anger.

I shall hide the shirt from him and reveal it later. If Remy continues to see it on my bed, as a pillowcase to one of my pillows, it may burn my bridge to his remembering and any association of the shirt with that of his littlest lost uncle See-see.

Poop to That

Ender, in all his glory, did drop a masslve deuce in the sphere of porcelain Influence.

The boys are close to three years old and have thus far resisisted mightily the training of pottyness.

I will break them yet. Soon they will poop on command. On my enemies. It will be glorious.

We've been calling Joshua by his middle name, Remy. He's taking to it pretty well. I certainly enjoy saying it more.

Remy and Ender have taken to wrestling. My mattress is on the floor. It is their favorite arena. Remy is the more aggressive combatant. This is surprising to me, as he is generally milder in all things. In hindsight, Remy has been the most resistant to the pain of pressure points. Remy also withstands cold much better than Ender. At this point, I believe Remy to be physically tougher but more emotionally sensitive than Ender, if comparisons must be made.

Joshua also gives fierce growls while he prepares to attack. I've seen him play monster before, and he will learn that this manner will give him a considerable psychological advantage over his opponents.

I also hope to teach them to laugh when they get hurt, as it makes enemies quite unsure of themselves when their attacks are met with laughter.

Remy and Ender and I went wading. On our usual trip to the park, I was crestfallen to see our running-round fields flooded with irrigation water. The twins and I played for a bit on the slides and swings. A few ducks were quacking about. Screw this, I thought to no one.

I waded out into the muddy water. My boots are designed for mountaineering and my feet remained dry. My pants and shirt were also designed for such activities so I did not fear damage.

My secret goal of being a water-proof uncle had finally manifested.

Remy followed me into the muck. After a few deliberate steps, he was slogging along happily after me.

Ender whined at us from the edge of the water. He took a few tentative steps towards the water but he clearly didn't like the squishiness of the mud at the edge. Only after I took his hand would he venture further.

He never did get used to the very muddy parts. A couple of times he fell and just sat for a bit. Ender walks on his toes a lot, a style not suited for muck stability.

Despite these obstacles, on we slogged. We were able to get very close to the ducks. There was a beautiful mallard with a lustrous green head. When he flew, he revealed bright pink spots on his wings, on the back part of what might correspond to the upper arm of a human.

The twins seemed happy to see the ducks. I hope to take them to Kiwanis park to see geese. That should scare the hell out of them.

I am excited to teach them science. I must get a microscope so we can take water samples.

Da Boys, Da Boys

Remy and Ender have been having an excellent day so far. Ender is quick to wake up. Remy's eyes open like the coming dawn. A small slit appears, then slowly grows full. Remy sits upon my lap now and watches me type. They are enthralled with the computer and I don't doubt that they will soon become far more proficient than I. I consider myself a bit behind these days anyway. Behind is not the best word. I communicate very well, but I take more time. Faster faster faster? If I want to make mistakes, I will use my voice. If I want to make big mistakes, I write.

Remy growls like me. He also has learned to narrow his eyes, as I do when angry. His eyes are dark, dark, and when he smiles they burst into happy crinkles. Remy is the sweetheart. Much more sensitive to the slings and arrows of misfortune, when confronted with an obstacle Remy tends to fall down. I mean he falls down onto his back and lies there.

Ender is of hardier emotional stock. Tenacious and manipulative, he will attempt, fail, try again, and if he fails again he will try something else. An example by comparison, which should never be done with siblings as many loving parents say, but that is inevitable and should not be assumed to be a comparison of worth, just of capability.

Ender and Remy's toys are in a tall hamper. They can easily reach toys at the top, but their little baby arms can't get the toys at the bottom. When they first encountered this obstacle, Remy reached and reached and cried when he couldn't get his truck or stuffed animal or whatever the toy was. Ender made the same reaching attempt and also failed, perhaps more so than Remy because Ender is the shorter. Ender pushed the hamper over, crawled inside, and grabbed the ball or helmet or music box or whatever it was.

But Remy knows a good idea when he sees it. Tipping the hamper has become standard operating procedure for any tall container.

I am pleased, because this puts them on par with the average raccoon. Not as agile, not yet, but a few days ago Barbara came upon them both on the kitchen table happily rooting through her purse like little pig-pockets. They had climbed on the chair and then onto the table. The kitchen table is no longer the safe haven it has served as so well. This should please my mother. She gets most anxious when objects clutter the kitchen table. Her hands involuntarily open and clench, open and clench when she sees mess. I love my mother, but I have to remind myself that she had less than a traditional childhood.

Ender is sitt1ing on my knee and has removed my hat. The temperature outside is approaching 80 degrees Fahrenheit, or 26.6 degrees Celsius. We will go to the big park, a short wagon ride up the road. Always a good time.