W. Bruce Cameron - Hiking With Uncle Bruce

Jan 06, 20110

I am a wonderful uncle, even though my nieces and nephews always pretend otherwise. I’m currently visiting Jakob (16), Maya (13) and Ethan (8), who celebrated my arrival by joyously phoning their friends and begging to be allowed to spend the holidays at their houses.

At 9:00 a.m., I announce that we’re all going on a hike. Jakob, on the couch, rolls his eyes, Maya doesn’t react, and Ethan throws himself dramatically on the floor as if shot in the stomach. “A hike?” he shrieks, writhing around. “Not a hike!”

“Get your hiking boots on, let’s go!” I enthuse.

“My hiking boots are ugly,” Maya informs me in a this-ends-debate voice.

“I kinda wanna watch a movie,” Jakob says.

“What would happen if the ceiling fell on us?” Ethan wonders aloud. “It would smash our heads.”

“We’re going on a hike!” I say. “Maya, you can wear the shoes you have on, they’re fine. Jakob, put some shoes on. Ethan, stop acting as if the ceiling has fallen on your head. Do you know where your other sock is?”

Ethan is crawling on the carpet, back bent under the weight of the imaginary ceiling. “They would have to call rescue dogs,” he speculates.

“Sock? Get another sock,” I say.

Jakob, struggling against gravity, falls back to the couch. “Maybe later,” he says.

“Now! Maya, where are you going?”

“To pack lunch,” she says, her tone implying I’m probably the dumbest uncle ever. Maya heads into the kitchen.

“OK, good idea,” I call after her.

“Can I wear Army socks?” Ethan asks me.

“Sure,” I tell him.

“I don’t have Army socks,” he says.

“Then, no,” I say.

“But you said I could!” Ethan protests.

“Maybe I should stay home and watch the house,” Jakob suggests. He glances at the TV, which is the part of the house he is suggesting he watch.

“Ethan, find your other sock. Jakob, come on, it will be fun.”

Jakob gives me a look to indicate he knows it will not be fun.

Ethan’s idea for locating his missing sock is to take off the other one and throw it randomly around, figuring that if allowed to run free it will find its mate. His first toss snags the overhead light, the sock hanging forlornly. “Cool!” he shouts.

“Uncle Bruce, we’re out of chocolate chips,” Maya calls from the kitchen.

“Why do we need chocolate chips?”

“For the cookies I’m making for lunch,” she explains patiently.

“Maya, I was sort of hoping we could leave right away,” I say. I grab Ethan as he’s about to throw something at the overhead light to knock down the sock — a stapler, as it turns out. I pull down the sock and hand it to him, and he tosses it right back at my face.

“Sorry,” he says, collapsing in giggles.

Jakob is now texting someone. “Jakob. Put on shoes.”

“OK,” he says, his thumbs moving rapidly.

“Do it now, OK? I want to get going.” I say.

“OK.”

“Are you even paying attention?”

“Um ...”

“Jakob?”

“Uh ...”

I pull out my cell phone and send a text to Jakob telling him to put on shoes. When he reads it, he rolls his eyes. In the kitchen, I hear pans banging together. “Ethan, did you find your sock?”

“No,” he says, “but I lost the other one.”

“At least we’re making progress,” I say.

Maya sticks her head around the corner. “I’m making banana bread,” she tells me.

“Why?”

“Because we’re out of chocolate chips.”

“I want banana bread!” Ethan yells.

I turn to him. “Ethan,” I ask patiently, “where are your pants?”

He looks down at his Sponge Bob underwear. “Oops,” he says, giggling.

“Dude, put your pants on,” his older brother mutters.

“Can I take my night vision goggles?” Ethan wants to know.

“We’re not going at night.”

“They work anyway.”