two twerps

27Nov09

So lately I haven’t been talking about the twerps as much. And it’s not because I’ve finally become COMPLETELY self-absorbed.

Maybe.

You see, The Monkey is 12 (going on 29) now. So she’s evil and no longer even a little cute. Kidding. I just don’t think it’s right to tell all kinds of stories that might embarrass her. I’ll save that for when she starts dating. Of course, all bets are off if she is being a pain in my ass.

And The ACN is just tired of the spotlight that comes with being so adorably cute. Blog celebrity was making her all Joaquin Phoenix-y. We have exchanges like this.

Uncle Pete: SO cute! Can I make a video?

ACN shakes her head no.

Uncle Pete: Can I take a picture?

ACN shakes her head no.

Uncle Pete: But… but…

ACN shakes her head no.

Uncle Pete: You want Uncle Pete to put the camera away and stop being a pain in the ass?

ACN: Yeeeaaaaaaah.

But I will tell you a couple little stories.

**********

I call The ACN every night at 6 pm. I will pretty much drop whatever I am doing at that moment. I will hang up with you to call her. (Conversely, she might straight up refuse to talk to me if there is anything even remotely interesting going on with her.) Because of our routine, she has come to expect my calls to be on time.

The other day I plopped down on my bed around 5:40 pm. I was watching some Seinfeld. I was very comfy. VERY comfy. Seemingly seconds later, I opened one eye and Jennifer Aniston was on my TV. “She was never on Seinfeld…” I looked at the clock…

6:11!!!!!!

Uh oh.

I grabbed my phone and called the ACN.

My sister answered with “You are in trouble!”

I am always on speaker phone, so I ignored my sister and tried to apologize to the ACN.

Silence.

“She’s mad at you, Uncle Fred,” my sister said. (The ACN has decided my name is Uncle Fred now… No idea why.)

“It’s only 11 minutes!” I pleaded.

“Do you want to talk to Uncle Fred?” she asked ACN. “She’s saying no, Uncle Fred.”

I did my fake crying sniffles. I heard little giggles.

“Are you laughing at me? GRRRRRRRRRR.”

I heard howls of laughter.

I figured she had forgiven me and that we’d talk.

Yeah, nope.

I apologized.

She ignored.

I GRRRR’d.

She laughed.

Finally I said, “Do you want to kick Uncle Pete off of the phone?”

“YEAH!!!!!”

Owie.

And when I called last night, the babysitter answered with, “Do you want to talk to Uncle Fred?”

Squeals of delight.

“She said no,” the babysitter told me.

More squeals of delight.

Everything I said got squeals of delight.

I did get a “love” and a “you” and a “bye.”

But they were outnumbered by squeals of delight.

And then she kicked me off the phone.

While squealing with delight.

**********

I got this Facebook message this morning from The Monkey:

“Heey Pete!!! I was just wondering if you could download Jump on it,
Swing, Meet me halfway, watcha say, 1980, and i think that’s it for
now! Please! Love you! <3"

Some things to note:

1) "Love you" is her new closer for any time she asks for a favour. Though it is an improvement over the "Oh you'll do it because you love me" that I had been getting lately.

2) All I get are song titles. Sometimes it isn't even the correct title. She never tells me who sings the songs.

3) "Jump On It" is from 1996.

4) I messaged her back to tell her I had the songs downloaded for her, and she replied with a bored "Oh, I'll get them from you at some point."

The other night The Monkey and her Dad were here. A hockey game I wanted to watch (and that I won a bet on!) was just starting. I said, "Ottawa has to win." The Monkey said, "Nope. Pittsburgh is going to win." I ignored her, even though CANADIANS SHOULD NEVER CHEER FOR AN AMERICAN TEAM AGAINST A CANADIAN TEAM.

A minute or so into the game, Pittsburgh scored.

I swore.

And The Monkey started trash talking me.

In French.

Which really is more annoying than English trash talk.

They eventually went home — after The Monkey paced back and forth in the living room reading out loud from a book for twenty minutes. I went to watch my game. And, of course, Ottawa won. Big.

The next morning I texted The Monkey's phone with "Ottawa 6 – Pittsburgh 2."

She must not have taken her phone to school, because after her volleyball practice, I heard my phone beep. I saw it was from her and started smiling. I opened it and found:

"Shit on you! Old man!"

Filed under: ACN, The Monkey   |  9 Comments