“You’re so darn cute! How do you stand yourself?” I poked the cutest little girl in the nose and she giggled.
“I don’t know, Aunt Susie.”
It was getting late and I still had laundry to fold. Since the complex pool was next to the laundry room, I’d thought it convenient to wash clothes while we swam with our nieces. It was taking a bit longer than I’d planned, what with quality time with family delaying me.
Dear hubby was entertaining the older, challenging niece. So far, so good. I dragged little butt over to him and she climbed onto his shoulders. Her trust was well placed.
“I have to go fold the last load. I’ll try to be quick.”
“No worries,” he said, “We probably leave after this. It’s getting chilly.”
Little girl hollered from his back, “I’m not cold, Uncle Jack!” She was already starting to shiver. Drat! My night would end with clean clothes, in any case.
Halfway through the load, they tumbled inside, the little monkey shivering and blue-lipped, still protesting her departure from liquid fun.
Pulling clothes out of the dryer, I saw in my peripheral vision a little hand come up and then I heard, “What’s that?”
Europeans are more comfortable with their bodies than Americans, in general. At public swimming pools, I’d seen men wearing speedos that hid under their bellies. At least, I assumed they had on swimwear. My husband would tease that such a man hadn’t seen his little friend in a long time.
He’d compromised on swimwear, debating his usual speedos and baggy American-style swimtrunks, at last choosing a fitted pair of shorts, basically Americanized speedos.
Little niece poked him indelicately in the crotch and asked him a basic anatomy question.
A lowing sound poured out of his mouth before he turned and walked all the way up to the wall.
Our older niece then asked, “What’s what?” I couldn’t stop laughing to tell her, and likely would have walked around her question anyway.
The man pulled himself together and rejoined us.
Taking a deep breath, I let him know, “You were warned.”
And then…
The cutest little niece answered her cousin’s question, “I’m talking about that,” and poked his crotch again. My husband fell to the floor and curled up, lowing like a lost calf.
The older, but not so much wiser, niece and I laughed until we couldn’t breathe.
Little muffin stomped her foot and yelled, “Why is everyone laughing?”
