The Theory of Relativity

You don't have to be a rocket scientist to see that Louis loves being one of the gang.

When his cousins Julia, Gregory, Mary, and Paul come to town, he slips right into the group as if he's known them forever.

It's especially fun to see them growing up together. Every time they come to visit, the children are a little older. And I noticed during last week's visit, they are sharing more naturally with each visit together.

Every time we get together, Louis has even more fun with 2-year-old Paul.



And every time they're together, Louis finds something else to idolize about his bigger boy cousin Gregory. It's no wonder. Gregory is 6--and he can already make his brother disappear.



Not that every moment of a week with the cousins is argument-free. Not everyone can play with the corn popper at the same time. Everyone has different ideas about how to build with Legos. And because my name is Mama and my sister's name is Mommy, Louis thinks he should be able to call Aunt Maureen "Mommy." Mary disagrees. The fiery 3-year-olds' "No, she's my mommy!" arguments from last week may go down as family legend.

When Uncle Eric arrived for the weekend, we all decided to make a trip to our local science museum. Louis had never been, and he kept saying, "I going to dig dinosaur bones."

When we got there, he was impressed by the size of the dinosaurs.

But he was even more interested in getting to work. He put on his goggles, grabbed a paintbrush, and set to it.

Louis isn't the most patient archaeologist.

And he's not particularly gentle in his eagerness to uncover a bone.

Still, he was very happy to work alongside his cousins. And he was pleased with the bones they uncovered.

When we finally pulled him away from the dig, he discovered a dinosaur nest. (Julia, as you can probably tell, is a baby Triceratops here. The rest of the children are keeping an eye out for a hungry T-Rex.)

Then--oh, joy--we found a place where the children could climb into dinosaur footprints and wave yardsticks around.

Yardsticks in the hands of excited preschoolers who are jumping in and out of huge holes? I shiver just thinking about it.

If no one lost an eye, that's because I made sure someone lost the yardstick early on.

Standing in a dinosaur's footprint gives you plenty to think about, as Louis would be happy to tell you.

Even when we left paleontology behind, Louis found plenty to do. He met a crab.

He touched a cloud.

He balanced a ball on a pillar of air.

He lay on a bed of nails--twice.



He helped Baba build a container for the egg drop contest. (Not only did our egg not survive the fall, but Mama even accidentally dropped our first egg before we got to the contest area.)



He watched a glowing orb-like thing that kept changing to show different moons or planets or...something I could explain better if I hadn't been trying to keep an eye on five children running through the darkness.


He became an astronaut.


Apparently astronauts don't have time to stand up straight for photo shoots--especially not as lunchtime approaches--though they are good at showing younger cousins how cool they look in their suit. (Next time Paul gets the first turn, we promise.)



As we walked through the museum, Baba joked that he didn't think Louis was learning much science. And he probably wasn't. But he sure enjoyed his cousins. He and Mary are about eight months apart, and they are so cute together.

Last week when I dropped Louis off at my mother's every morning, he wasn't the only one standing at the door waving to me and yelling, "G'bye, g'bye, g'bye, g'bye, g'bye" without taking a breath. Most mornings Mary or Paul--or both--were at his side waving too. Then when I came back to Grandma's to pick him up after work, Louis would say firmly, "I'm playing with my cousins," and refuse to leave.


Cousins are just so much fun. They go exploring.


They take the egg drop contest more seriously than your parents do.



They make terrific friends.

They order kids' meals--which means your parents get one for you, too.

And when there are enough of them around, you can duck behind another cousin when your Mama is trying to take a group photo.


And then when you feel like it, you can pop out like a cuckoo bird.



When we said goodbye outside the museum, Louis didn't know how long it would be until the next cousin visit. At 3, it's hard to have any sense of time. And that's just as well because last night he told us he wants to go to "Julia, Gregory, Mary, and Paul's house." And they're far enough away that we won't see them for another month or so.

By then, everyone may be faster, better at sharing, and maybe even taller. Maybe we could use that yardstick after all.