by Chris Rostenberg

So, I was down in Jamaica at a family wedding when I met my little cousins, Nate, Charlie, Henry and Lily.  They were great kids and well-behaved.  I preferred hanging around these kids and playing chess than socializing with the adults.  Annie, my cousin and the mother of two of the boys compared me with the Pied Piper.  Kids crack me up.  “How early ago did you come down?”  “No I amn’t.” 

I got the all the kids into comics.  Charlie and Henry were particularly captivated by Tintin comics.  I also gave them an Elfquest (that I want back real bad).  Later, the kids were off playing together and I was sitting at the table with the adults.  Little Henry approached me for help.  “Nate keeps squirting me in the face!” he said.  “We’re playing with water-pistols and Nate squirted me in the face!  What should I do?”

Henry was asking me, even though we had just met, instead of his parents or grandparents.  I told him, “Set down some rules with Nate and if he doesn’t accept them, don’t play with him.”

“Can you come tell him?” Henry asked.

“I think you can handle this.”

Henry ran off and I ate my hamburger.

A little while later, Nate approached me at the table.  “How’s it going?” I asked.

Nate said, “Henry just squirted me in the face!”

I gave up.

Years have gone by and my cousins are in college.  Some of them go to school nearby in Manhattan.  And you know what?

None of them ever contacts me.