Funny Guy Friday... When's Daniel coming over?

     Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband, Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
     About once a week or so, my twenty-five-year-old nephew, Daniel, comes over to our house to work on hitting with our 12-year-old son, Matthew. Daniel played baseball in college and can skillfully analyze Matthew's hitting imperfections in order to correct them. He doesn't charge for the lessons, unless you count the free dinners. Funny thing is that when he started, I asked Matthew if he were hearing something other than what I usually tell him. He told me no, but that Daniel just does it better. 
     I am sure that these lessons will pay off for Matthew because it looks like he has a great teacher.
     Typically, I arrange for Daniel to come over, and then I announce it to the family when I walk through the door after work. My kids enjoy their cousin's company and are always excited to see him.
     After he is done hitting with Matthew, Daniel will stick around and chase 8-year-old Noah around the house so he can deliver a wicked Atomic Back-Breaker or the equally devastating Big Tickle, or he may chat with 16-year-old Grace and give her advice about high school and growing up. Sometimes he just sits and visits, talking about nothing at all. It is fun for Cheryl and me to just watch and listen.
     Tonight, when I came through the door and announced that Daniel was coming, Matthew asked why?    
     Why do you think? He comes to hit with you once a week but tonight, he and I are going out on the town together.
     Sweet. Daddy is going to be Daniel's wing man!
     Why do I have to be the wing man? He can be my wing man? What's a wing man?
     Now, the idea of me hanging out with my nephew, Daniel, is not that far-fetched. In fact, I was roommates with his two older brothers for several months. Okay... so they were 8 and 11 years old at the time, and I was in law school, but still. Truth be told, if I had had any style, they probably wouldn't have cramped it anyway. I had no "game" because I was living with my parents.
     That's right, it was just my mother and my father and I living in a four bedroom colonial. Still, I had it all... a bedroom and bathroom all to myself... an elderly landlady that did all the cooking, cleaning and laundry.... another equally elderly landlord that paid for everything. I also had a curfew. Okay, the curfew wasn't all that cool... but if I stayed out late my mommy couldn't sleep.
     Let me tell you, it was a wild time on Kennison Lane.
     Then it all changed. I came home from law school one day, and all my magazine covers were off the walls. What red-blooded American male did not have magazine covers pinned all over his walls? Well built... sleek... athletic bodies doing incredible, unbelievable, unthinkable, wild things. Of course, I am talking about the Sports Illustrated covers that I had stapled all over my room. Those guys were quickly replaced by bunk beds.
     I went to my landlords and demanded an explanation.
     Your brother, his wife, and their four boys are moving home for a while. You will be sharing a room with your nephews.
     I don't get my own room anymore? Which nephew?
     We said nephews... with an s... as in two.
     Two? This is unacceptable.
     You are never home anyway, so what does it matter.
     What if I have a date and I want to bring her home and want, ahem, to show her my room. 
     Bring her home. She isn't allowed upstairs anyway.
     My landlords had this silly little rule that no member of the opposite sex, not related by blood or marriage, was allowed to go upstairs in our house at any time. They couldn't even go up to use the bathroom... which was once my bathroom but was now going to be mine, Jeff's, Theresa's, Jonathan's, Jeffrey's, Joseph's and Daniel's bathroom. At the time, I did have a "downstairs girlfriend" but could only imagine an "upstairs girlfriend." I doubt that my fake upstairs girlfriend could have even found a seat in that bathroom.
     What am I going to do with four boys?
     You can play out back with them; they like sports.
     That's true.
     Sure. It will be fun.
     I will dominate.
     Sure you will, as long as your brother Jeff isn't playing too.
     He cheats. He has always cheated, and you two let him cheat.
     We will watch him a little closer this time around. We promise. 
     Okay, but will Mom still do all the cooking, cleaning and laundry?
     Sure.
     Will Dad still pay for everything?
     Sure.
     Fine, I'll try it, but, for the record, I am not happy about this.
     Then move out.
     Well, I am not that unhappy. 
     So, late each night, I would get home from law school, grab a bite to eat, sneak quietly into my room, shush my imaginary upstairs girlfriend, turn on the light next to my bed, and start reading. It was kind of like having your own room, only with two kids sleeping five feet away from you, and two more toddlers right down the hallway.
     It wasn't so bad. I mean, I still got a lot of action at night, if you know what I mean.
     Well, if you don't know what I mean, let me elaborate... one of the two toddlers would have an occasional accident at night. Guess who was the only one awake that could swoop in and handle the mayhem? That's right, good ol' Uncle Mark.
     Every time this happened, I would tell him not to worry about it... our landlady does all the laundry. Then I would provide him with some dry clothes, and send him in with his parents. I promised him that I would never tell anyone about our little routine.
     Perhaps this is why he is willing to do these hitting lessons for free. Please do me a favor and let's just keep this little tidbit to ourselves.
     The truth of the matter is that I loved having those kids live with us. I loved playing ball with them, chasing them around the house and delivering a wicked Atomic Back-Breaker or the equally devastating Big Tickle, or just sitting around giving them advice about school and growing up. Their mother will tell you that my particular area of expertise was dating... real girlfriends, preferably.
     Rule 1. Encourage your date to go with a strapless gown.
     Rule 2. Always purchase a pin-on corsage.
     You know it's funny... I do all these same things with my kids, but they seem to enjoy it more when it involves Daniel. Turns out, he just does it better. 
     I am sure he does... he had a great teacher.