Cousin Time

One of the best things about heading East for the summer from San Francisco -- or West in our case from Paris -- is the chance to see cousins of all generations. Precious!

 

Some cousins come from far. This is Pippa and her cousin from NYC who is 15 days younger, but who gives her hand-me-downs nonetheless. Selfishly, we are quite pleased that both she and her mother have really fantastic taste in clothes and access to all those Manhattan stores...

 

 

Also from NYC, my own first cousin who is 15 days younger than me. Though we're beyond the days of hand-me-downs, she does give me excellent free therapy, being a psychologist and all. It's my annual visit on the couch. Except that we usually do our chatting in a Goodwill store, at a restaurant, or on a nice long walk. I call her my "couster" -- that would be a cousin-sister. And my relationship with her is the perfect proof to me of why childhood cousin time is so important.

 

My couster has kids of similar ages to my own, and they love each other. Here, Pop-pop (my dad, that is) visits his magical endless-stuff garage. Think Mary Poppins' handbag. And he comes up with a spontaneous puppet theater set for their production. The youngest boy is doing his best Spider Man impression. And I have become Spider Man's latest nemesis -- an evildoer named "Freezy Von Waffle" who has the audacity to serve unthawed waffles (but only upon request. Yet still mysteriously considered evil).

 

 

 

Here he is in his beloved car, Blackie. Besides being Spiderman, he is also a budding photographer who takes this excellent photo of his mom and dad; it's a family classic that involves taking pictures of other people taking pictures.

 

 

 

Some cousins are close by (well, once we travel the thousand miles to get to the Boston area, that is). Here the girls and their first cousins on Anthony's side -- Anthony's brother's two kids -- enjoy the last days of summer before heading back to school.

 

 

We've always thought their cousin (the girl without the goggles) could easily pass for Pippa's big sister. DNA strikes again! Here's a photo from four years ago that shows it best:

 

 

And, of course, we spend lots of quality time with my own sister's kids, whom we see a lot of during our trips to Maine. It's still a little bizarre to me that my "little" nephews both stand tall among the men already. Am I that old?

 

 

They are great with their little cousins, who basically use the big boys like jungle gyms whenever possible.

 

  

 

 

My own girls won't be little ones much longer -- wanting their cousins to read them bedtime stories and playing pattycakes.

 

 

 

And how much longer will he be able to pick up Pippa like she herself is the basketball? It's Michael Jordan, with a slight Pippa-sized handicap. Gigi's already too big to cart around while dribbling. But she's not too big to find it absolutely, positively hysterical.