Family Update: Part Ethan

Ethan is changing every day. He's becoming a teenage girl. Moody, that kid is.

Ethan is lingering in the stage of life where every move Drew makes is a direct assault on Ethan's happiness, but he thrives on his companionship with Cameron. I remember being in exactly the same position when I was younger - being constantly irritated by my little sister, (Sorry, Kellie), and idol-worshiping my older sister. Watching Ethan is sometimes very enlightening, as I am learning a lot about myself.

We get to watch Ethan in more places that we ought to. He leaves the bathroom door open every time he uses the facilities. I'll be walking down the hall and stop to deposit something in the bathroom, and there is Ethan, standing in front of the toilet, looking sheepish and saying, "Whaaat?" I just shake my head and close the door behind me. Around me, he has no shame. In front of others though, especially his soon-to-be Aunt Briana, he becomes modest to a fault and very self-conscious. Joel hung him upside-down by his ankles just the other day, and pretty soon Ethan's pants started to slip off. Ethan's panic came through as a high pitched scream as he tried desperately to hang on to his pants. His attempts were unsuccessful, and he was deposited on the ground with his pants around his knees, giggling his mortification as Briana tried not to snort her laughter. I assured Ethan later that Briana was laughing, but she wasn't looking at his Power Ranger underwear. (I'm sure she was, but Ethan doesn't need to know that.)

Ethan came home from school yesterday with a newsletter from class. He is supposed to bring twenty treats to class on the 17th to celebrate his half-birthday. (Since he has a summer birthday and school is not in session to recognize his special day.) He is also supposed to bring twenty wrapped candies to contribute to the class pinata, and a bag of candy to share with the class when they make their gingerbread houses. Never before have I so badly wished that I was back in first grade and could spend my days in class parties. Sheesh! I'm thinking we need to have a Freaky Friday moment; switch bodies and trade lives. I'll go to school and spend eight hours making Christmas decorations out of construction paper and paint, and he can stay home and argue with Drew over whether or not he should get to drink his hot chocolate in the living room.

My sweet, little Ethan, who takes care of me when I'm crippled and always wants to climb on my lap and hug me in the mornings has already perfected the art of guilting me into things. For instance, on Saturday, we went to get a Christmas tree with my mom and dad. I was really hoping that we could get a small, skinny Noble, about four and a half feet tall, with no more than twenty scrawny branches. I thought it would be fun to give a sad tree a home and decorate it to make it happy. But as we piled out of the car, Ethan remained in his seat, arms folded and grumpy looking. I asked him if he was getting out. His reply was, "No. I'm staying here because you'll just pick out the tree you want anyway. We never get the tree we want." Well, I couldn't make this a miserable experience for him, so with shame and hope that I could change his mind, I told him that I had forty dollars and he and Cameron could use it to buy any tree they wanted that didn't cost more than that. His smile re-appeared as if by magic, and he was out of the van and trotting off to the stand of trees to find just the right one. Now we have a very traditional Grand Fir. It's not a skimpy tree like I would have gotten, but this one sure smells good. Every time I have to lift up the bottom branches to water it, I am reminded of Ethan's impudence, and I smile.