This is my other nephew, Nicholas. He's seven. Reminds me so much of my sister at that age right down to the picky eating and nervous temperament.
He's in school so while I was visiting last fall, we got to hang out after he came home. At night I would read to him before bedtime. It was interesting to see Mr. Grown Up First Grader revert to snuggle junkie as we worked our way through several volumes of this series he likes involving a magic treehouse that - get this - is the home of King Arthur's kindly librarian Morgan le Fay who has been turned into a mouse by the Evil Wizard Merlin. (Do not get me started on the one where the samurai are evil and the ninja are good guys.)
One night after we finished the installment in which the children visit the moon with this mouse witch librarian, I told him about the night that Grammy let me and Mommy and Laina stay up late to watch Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walk on the moon for real. He was fascinated.
Then he decided to see if he could get another story by asking if Pop Pop could come upstairs too. No, Pop Pop's tired after his drive and you've already gotten two stories out of me, I said. Remembering the sort of thing Dad treated us to when I was Nick's age, I asked what kind of stories Pop Pop told him.
His eyes lit up and he cried "BEOWULF!"
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