I love my neice and nephew. And, when I took them to the park today, I officially became the coolest person in the world--well, the coolest adult on the playground, at least (and I say "adult" loosely). I kept coming up with really creative things for Owen and Ava and me to do, like play that we were rescue rangers and we had to save Owen from falling down the slide into hot lava or pretend that I was an evil super villian who would lock them up in prison (a net-like portion of the playground) where they could NEVER escape (which, of course, they did). Well, soon all the other kids on the playground wanted to play, too. And they were all trying to get my attention and get me to chase them or put me in jail and would get upset if I would take a break or go off to play with Ava (the two-year-old who needs more constant observance) alone. It actually got a little overwhelming, though it was flattering. I mean, my imagination and I were in demand. That doesn't happen everyday.
So, I felt validated. At least kids love me. And that is certainly true of Owen and Ava. I felt bad for my brother tonight when Ava cried inconsolably when I was leaving, howling my name as she struggled against my brother's arms and reached for me. (Her mom's out of town and that makes her a little more insecure, I think.) Yet, once again, I was flattered. Nothing like a child heart-broken at your leaving to make you feel loved.