Seven-year-olds would lose their heads if they weren’t attached.

Last week my two nephews from Colorado stayed with me.  I had forgotten what it’s like to have little boys.

I forgot that they are constantly moving.  I forgot if they are not constantly moving, they are bored.  I forgot they are always hungry unless you are feeding them vegetables.  I forgot they cannot walk the same speed as anyone else.  I forgot they lose everything.  I forgot just about everything about little boys.  But now I remember.

I had planned a fun-filled week.  From the minute we were awake until the time I finally got to crash in the evenings, I felt like we were in constant motion.  We went to the beach, we went to the movies, we went into Houston, they jumped on the trampoline, they went skateboarding, we went swimming, a friend took them out on his waverunner. 

Mid-week my nephew asked, “What’s there to do?”  You see, it had been a full ten minutes since his last activity and boredom was setting in.

I, on the other hand, did laundry, cooked, and cleaned.  One morning, I was determined to be the “good aunt” and fixed them all a big breakfast.  I cooked French toast.  After two loads, they were still hungry, so I kept them coming until they were finally satiated.  I was left with mountains of dishes as they mysteriously disappeared.

Just about the time the kitchen was clean and yet another load of laundry was going, they reappeared and announced, “We’re hungry.  What’s for lunch?”

We took my daughter to the airport one day, and I thought they would enjoy seeing all the jets and stuff.  I kept doing the mental-mommy-thing where every ten seconds you look around and count heads.  One of them was always missing.  Either they had bolted ahead, looking at the stuff in the gift shop, or they were lagging thirty steps behind. 

I realized that maybe we were walking too fast for them, so I purposely slowed down.  That doesn’t work with seven-year-olds.  It’s almost automatic for them to slow down, too.  They stop to look at bugs on the ground.  They stop to read the signs, they stop to pick up the shoe they just lost. Seven-year-olds will not, no matter what you try, walk the same speed as you are.  Seven-year-olds are also totally unconcerned that they may lose you in the crowd.

We had planned a day at the beach and everyone was excited.  We were about to leave and I noticed the seven-year-old didn’t have his swimsuit on.

“I can’t find it,” he said.  I found it under the bed.

“Grab your flip-flops!” I urged on our way out the door.

“I can’t find them,” he announced.  They were out in the garage next to the skateboard.

“Where’s the towel I just gave you?” I asked.

“I can’t find it,” he replied.  We grabbed another one.

I forgot that it always takes about an hour longer to do anything when you have a seven-year-old because you have to allow for all the lost things.  This is the same nephew that arrived last year with no shoes.  His parents had taken him to the airport … a 60-minute trip … just to discover he had left his shoes at home.  And he had forgotten to pack any others.

We gave each of the nephews a cap with Texas stuff on it as a souvenir of their trip.  When we got home from taking them to the airport, we found one of them in the back seat.

Surprise.  The seven-year-old had forgotten his.