–By Rene Tyson–My nephew, a.k.a. the Tasmanian devil, usually means well. He is a high-energy, curly-floppy haired, round-apple cheeked bouncing boy. I am sometimes terrified about the bouncing because he keeps growing bigger and bigger and I have breakable things in my living room.I remind myself that it’s only stuff and stuff can be replaced but what can’t be replaced is the relationship that I get to have with my sweet nephew.
So yesterday, my youngest son who is very neat, likes his hair perfect, and tucks in his shirts on a regular basis, was getting ready for a music concert at school. The two boys go to the same school and they were going to be performing back to back. I told my son to take off his slacks and white collared shirt so that I could iron them. Surprisingly, he didn’t want to. I told him, “No child of mine is going to show up to a school concert all slobby and crazy.” He replied, “but Sampson’s going to be there.” “Yes but he isn’t my child and I only claim him half the time.”
When we arrived at the concert there was Sampson smiling from ear to ear. Dressed in black slacks, white button-down tucked-in shirt; he was even wearing a tie. Rosie-cheeked angel boy, Samson was the proudest, best dressed first grader on stage. He spoke his lines with confidence. He knew that he knew his part. I was so proud. I totally claimed him. Later that night, my sister and her boys came over for dinner. “I don’t want THAT food,” he pronounced in a loud voice. Yep. Not my kid. “Hey buddy, go talk to your mama.”