by Nancy Canfield

Created on: July 23, 2009

Not too long ago, my niece was in dire need of someone to watch her three kids for the day. Having learned a valuable lesson early in life, I sat stone-like while the rest of my family came up with lame excuses such as work, school, and doctor appointments. Finally, all eyes turned toward me. My family's anticipation took varying forms ranging from eye rolling to apoplectic shock. I contemplated for several seconds allowing visions of retribution to dance through my head, let out my well practiced sacrificial moan, and agreed. The look on the children's faces was, well, priceless.

I set aside the temptation to bring them to every historical site in the area, an opted for a kinder, gentler tactic that always intrigued me.....bonding. Christmas was looming on the horizon, so I decided to treat them all with early Christmas presents. I thought I'd even throw lunch in there as a bargaining chip if I needed one. I went to sleep trying to remember some really cool slang to lay on them while listening to Elvis and Manilow on the way to the mall. This was going to be great.

The eighteen year old was home from college, and had her independence pretty much wrapped up. She understood how important it was to patronize me, and I appreciated that. She helped me out of the car, through doors, and scoped out restrooms for me. I bought her anything she looked at because she was so nice. She kept insisting it all was too much, and she really didn't need so many clothes. I bought them anyway, because she had learned how to play the game, and I was proud of her. We became especially close when she asked for a DVD, and I bought her some BVD s. This kid was going places. She reminded me of me.

Bonding with the fourteen year old proved to be more difficult than originally expected. I remember being embarrassed by my parents from time to time, but it was always followed by my feelings of guilt and love, because I knew they were sacrificing for me. Apparently my grand niece has a different view. After a lecture on the antiquity of my wardrobe, she proceeded to give me implicit instructions to avoid invading her space in the mall. I was to walk twenty feet behind her. The only time an approach was considered appropriate was at the check out counter. After she made her selections, she would step back and pretend she was still browsing. I would then pay for her designer jeans and jewelry. Has anyone ever heard of Walmart? I thought we may have bonded for a second when she asked for

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