Three

My nephew Sam turned three last week, so Saturday we traveled to Ophiem for brunch: blueberry waffles with whipped cream and sprinkles, spinach frittata, bacon, sausage, a bevy of sliced fruits. I think every Saturday morning should begin just like that.

D., after letting me in on a little secret he's figured out--"Um, Chad, girls don't dig guns"--called me into the computer room to look at parodies of "Gold Digger" on YouTube. Yes, Uncle Chad introduced D. to the uncensored Kanye West way back in the day. So we watched some videos, including one about the Freshman Fifteen ("I ain't sayin' she a lot thicker, but have you seen the girl eat a Snickers") and then D. started saying he wanted to look up "White and Nerdy." I was like, um, I think it's called "Ridin' Dirty," hoping we wouldn't have to, you know, go there. But D. persisted: "No. It's 'White and Nerdy.' Look that up." And, of course, that's the name of the Weird Al Yankovic parody of "Ridin' Dirty." When I was D.'s age, I knew every word on a couple Weird Al cassettes, but no longer. I've fallen out of the loop.

The quote of the day, though, didn't come from D. but from the birthday boy himself. As J.C. and I were about to leave, we walked into the living room where our four niblings were all hanging out--the two three-year-old boys, the two two-year-old girls--and J.C. said, "Who wants to give Auntie J.C. a hug." Sam, right away, raised his hand over his head and said, "I don't want to."

And here I didn't think "Girls don't dig guns" could be topped.

On a side note, Blogger finally made me switch to its new version. I, however, haven't really noticed any changes. Are things funky around here for y'all or is it pretty much the same as it always was?