Thursday, October 19, 2000

Damon’s fourth birthday

Diana and I are at the Galleria, shopping for my nephew Damon's fourth birthday present.

Damon isn't my real nephew. I'm just his adopted Uncle Brad. His father, Terry, was overseas during the last months of Diana's pregnancy, so I was her backup and was even at the hospital holding her hand when the little squirt was born. Terry and Diana and I have been friends for years, and I was enormously pleased a few months after Damon's birth when we got together for dinner and they fell right into calling me Uncle Brad.

"We don't have much family," Diana explained. "And we think it's important for Damon to have a strong male figure in his life, other than his father, of course."

"Oh," I said, "like Uncle Charley on My Three Sons."

"Actually," Terry said, "we were thinking more like Uncle Arthur on Bewitched."

So after I extracted a promise from them that I wouldn't have to be the one who explained the birds and the bees to Damon when his blushing mother and stammering father retreated, I consented to apply my considerable avuncular charm to the task. Mainly, this has meant that I'm expected to be an inexhaustable source of sweets and treats for the kid.

I've always made it a tradition to give a book of poetry or short stories when a friend or family member has a baby. I think it's important that children be read stories aloud by their parents and I figure a nice hardbound book, inscribed with their birthdate and a cheery, optimistic message from a friend will be a lifelong keepsake. For Damon, I selected a Shel Silverstein collection and -- to tweak Terry and Di just a bit for the Uncle Arthur remark -- I threw in a copy of Heather Has Two Mommies.

Since then, I've been more or less put in charge of Damon's diversity education, and his parents usually don't bat an eye when I exercise a little creativity in my means and methods. (Diana did, however, draw the line when I took to using the diminuitive "Dame" as a nickname for the child.) Last year, they didn't balk when I presented Damon with a Billy doll instead of a G.I. Joe.

Anyway, Damon has become something of a Toy Story fanatic. He requests the original Disney movie played so often that he's already worn out one videotape copy, and Diana plans to pick up the newly-released sequel for his main gift this year. I suggest we stop by the Disney Store so I can find something suitable to accompany it.

Di is across the store checking out fabulously overpriced Tigger jumpsuits, so I'm practically skipping with glee when I reach her with what I consider the perfect gift from Uncle Brad clutched in my hands. She looks at the box, then at my grinning face, then at the package again, and then back at me. She's barely suppressing the giggles as she shakes her head. "He really likes Buzz Lightyear better," she says. "But if you're a very good boy, maybe Terry and I will get this for you at Christmas."

Dejected but hopeful, I wander back to the toy department and return the "Giant Talking Woody" to its place on the shelf.