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the new supernatural nephew called the other day. i hadn't heard from him for a while, but i knew he'd been busy entertaining houseguests- family from spain who don't have the luxury of seeing him any time they want. i know how they feel. it is tough to pack everything you want to tell someone so new into such a small time and i didn't want to call right when they were getting to know him and were storing up for the long time in spain when they have to be without him.

but he dialed up on his own and everything sounded muffled. "you've got to help me!" he said. he sounded like he was in a very soft cave. "cola, where are you?" i asked, worried he'd got himself dumped in a hamper or something. cola is not his name. it's not even what i call him, but we've been playing a game called renamer, where we try to come up with as many variations on his name as possible, giving him and endless supply of uncomfortable nicknames. cola has stuck a bit because it makes him laugh. eventually i will transfer cola back to nicolas then to nikolai and it's only a matter of time before i start calling him tesla and make his ringtone on my phone modern day cowboy or something. when i call him cola, he sometimes calls me root beer. he thinks this is endlessly funny. we are now so far from the point we're going to need a map. hang on.

small child, muffled phone call. "she thinks i'm asleep," he whispers. "i'm under the blanket in my bed. i have to be quiet." "okay," i say, trying to imagine how he got down, got a phone, got back up and dialed without getting her attention. "but why? your mom seems pretty mellow about the whole baby thing and she hasn't blown your supernatural cover, so what' the problem?" "i see them in my sleep, coming at me from out of nowhere. cameras, videocameras. when i open my eyes, she's there expecting me to be cute. look. i can't be cute all the time. she swoops in so close the camera is this horrible monster coming to devour me!" "oh, come on now," i say, laughing. "if you're smart enough to know it's a camera, you know it can't eat you. don't be silly." "i'm speaking metaphorically," he snapped. i laugh again and begin to explain the difference between simile and metaphor. he's only four months old, so i'm not going to be too hard on him. then i think a moment. he really is speaking metaphorically, sort of. although he's also using some personification (monsterification?), i figure it's best if i just don't mention it.

so now i have a problem, a conflict of interests, so to speak. because i can talk to his mom about the paparazzi-style scene she's created in her home and he'll know i'm there for him, on his side. he'll know i've got his back and that i'd cross even my own sister to make him happy. then there's the other choice. because i still haven't actually met him yet. i've never seen him for real so all those pictures and movies she's constantly making are most of how i know who he is. the earliest i will get to meet him is october and he'll be around seven months old then. he'll be driving, i'm sure and will probably be practicing his supernatural skills as well. flying. invisibility. he doesn't even know what i look like. if he stepped off a plane by himself, i'd need to have a big card with his name on it so he'd find me.

i should be used to this, of course. the older supernatural nephew has been growing up half a country away as well and visits are every six months, every year. so although the new nephew is coming to me for help and because he has faith in me, i'm at the point in the superhero movie where someone has to make that big, selfless choice and this is where my own inability to think beyond me me me dooms the hero to a great deal of suffering and indignity. because i would look at new photos of him every day and i would listen to his chirps and gurglings as long as as she can hold the camera on him. so i try to make it sound like this is the small bit he has to give as a supernatural to keep her in check, to keep her going along with the whole normal infant story line. he doesn't want to blow his cover. he buys my story because he has very little experience of the world and simply doesn't know any better, but he whines a bit and wants to know if it will let up at all. it will, i assure him.

i know tomorrow she'll grab the camera and wave it in front of him, daring him to do something adorable. and he will, because i told him he has responsibilities. he hangs up the phone and i think to myself he's really being sort of a baby about all this. i hope he'll grow out of it by october.