My Utah Niblets

I am in Utah this weekend visiting my sister Jenny's niblets (nieces/nephews + kidlets = niblets). I always look forward to driving down to see them (well, I don't look forward to the actual driving part. Most of my Utah driving experiences usually end with me attempting to develop new cuss words that are descriptive enough to convey my complete and utter hatred for Utah traffic) and have a ton of fun while I am there.

This is Bentley. He was born on the very last day of my mission, giving me a very compelling reason to board that plane and leave my wonderful Canadians behind. As the first of my family's grand babies/niblets, he pretty much got whatever he wanted. Example: One call to his soft touch Papa H in a very mournful tone of voice to say, "Papa...(sad sniff)....there are no doughnuts in our home..." and Papa hit the freeway, stopping only to buy a weeks supplies of Krispy Kremes before showing up on Bentley's doorstep. He has turned out to be a pretty down-to-earth kid, despite all of our best attempts to spoil him rotten. Bentley is a very logical, Mr. Spock sort of guy. He started playing chess when he was two and knows more about computers than I do.
He is in 1st grade this year, but reading at a 6th grade level. Right now his major obsession is space. He wants to be an astronaut when he grows up so we will be going to Barnes and Noble between conference sessions today to find him a book about the planets.
This is Maxwell. He was the cutest, roley-poley-est, growling bear of a baby but swiftly morphed into an OCD toddler. My sister teaches her kids to sign before they are old enough to talk, and the sign we saw most often from Max was "dirty" in reference all of the things he wanted cleaned up.Max was one of those kids who had to have all of his toys, shoes, and stickers lined up in order of size to sleep. He would even turn down an offer of ice cream if he thought there was a chance he could get it on his face or clothes. He has gotten messier and less stressed out over time, although some of his quirks remain. His family got a new sliding glass door in their kitchen last spring, and while Max's siblings were dancing around in glee at the sights and sounds of the construction, Maxwell walked into the living room to ask his mom, "Who is going to clean that mess up?" Later, as he was surveying the final product, his mother heard him mumble, "We are going to have to use the vacuum and the broom." Max is in kindergarten this year where he is improving his already impressive reading and writing skills. Of course his real skill lies in being a ninja cowboy, except on the days when he is Spiderman or Superman or Iron Man, or a Power Ranger, or Voltron, or...
Then came Jonah, so sweet and full of love that he even managed to win over his oldest brother (the one whose favorite pre-Jonah-little-brother-involved activity was hitting the poor baby Max with a wooden spoon). I was down trying to help with the older boys just after Jonah was born when Bentley came home from church, gathered up all his weapons and demanded that I go outside with him to stand guard. I asked him what we were guarding against and Bentley told me that we had to "Kill the whaley fish," because "The whaley fish wants to eat the baby!" Can you guess which scripture story Bentley had learned in primary that day?

Jonah is one of those kids who moves at his own speed. He was in no hurry to walk or to talk. He was perfectly content to be the baby. It is still next to impossible today to try to get him to do anything he isn't in the mood to do. Lucky for us, Joe is usually in the mood to dance. He has some sweet moves.Jonah is a very trusting kid, so I always have a ton of fun telling him stories about the cute little town where I live. The three boys came to visit once a few years ago, but all they remember about my town is that, "It smells like cow poop." Poor Jonah is going to be very disappointed when he comes to visit again and discoveries that people don't ride tractors everywhere and that there is furniture in houses instead of cows to sit on. The Three Amigo's were getting along great, all was right with the world...and then their manly little world got turned upside down two years ago by a tiny little bundle of pink skin and blond fuzz.
Meet Ruby. The first girl in to be born in my family since...well, since me. And after so many boys (7 to be exact), there was not enough pink in either Idaho or Utah to fill our need to buy girly stuff.
Ruby has been sort of a puzzlement to her brothers. Half the time they want to play with her and love her and cuddle her, and the other half of the time they are terrified of her. As the only daughter, Ruby rules that house with an iron diaper. Of course, that doesn't mean she is without fears herself. While she has no problem attacking her brothers, uncles, or aunts, there are some things that freak her out. Things like car washes, and merry-go-rounds, and movie theaters, and trolley cars, and bugs, and nursery and toast, to name a few.
Ruby wants to be one of the boys, but she also enjoys being a girl. She loves to dress up and is obsessed with shoes, just like her mamma.
Of course, all of the new shoes in the world couldn't turn this kid into a girly girl at the dinner table. It is sights like this that make it really, really hard for me to drive home at the end of each visit. Seriously, how can you say "goodbye" to this? But say goodbye I must because I have 160 kidlets waiting for me back in Idaho (who are all going to be anxious to see if I heard President Monson talking about their Youth Cultural Celebration during the Saturday morning session).

As much as I love visiting Jenny's Utah brood, I also have other niblets who need my love and attention and debit card.

I am planning on spending a weekend in IF soon, so I can spend time with sweet little Kenna...

...and adorable Kylie.
It is going to be a while before I can visit my fuzzy New York niblets, though. I sure miss Mia and her parents, my NFL brother Moose and his incredible wife Brianna.
Of course, I am also anxious to see their oldest, Brady. Of course, by the time I make it over to Buffalo, he may be busy working on his masters thesis on classical poetry and won't have time for the less intelligent likes of me.
Should I be sad or proud that all of my niblets can beat me at chess (even the furry ones)? Hummm...I'm gonna go with proud. We do share some DNA after all. Brady even got my poor eyesight, hairy legs, and love of literature. I am one lucky Aunt!