Man's man, manly man, kid-man.
Photo by Missy McLamb.

My nephew knows exactly where he's going in life, exactly what he likes, exactly what he's doing all of the time. He also knows how to do everything (go ahead, ask him), which is really quite an accomplishment for a 7-year-old, if you think about it. He's the kind of kid who works the charisma so well that girls at school make dates to go strawberry picking with him. (Ilyse Lane's story last week about her kindergartner reminded me of my nephew -- you should read her sweet tale.) One of the most lasting images I have of my wedding -- you know, apart from all the lovey-dovey stuff that I keep under lock and key from cyber space (girl's gotta have a few things no one else knows about!) -- is the one where the nephew, then all of 2 years old, came strutting through the double doors of the hotel ballroom at the reception like he was George Clooney walking into a bar in Vegas. The haircut, the tux, the attitude. Sinatra wasn't singing "I've got the world on a string," in the background, but he might as well have been.

So, as you can imagine, I love a good story about this kid. And I recently heard a real plum. He lives on a tobacco farm, which already makes him unique among most 7 year olds I know. But like any good farm-bred boy, he values the feeling of hard day's work -- whether that work involves trading pretzels for popcorn with little girls at lunchtime, telling his mother how to fix dinner or surveying the fields.

Recently, my sister thought it might be nice to enroll him in T-Ball, or some derivative of that idea. So she asked him if he'd be interested. His response?

Him: "Nah. Not interested."
Mother: "Well why not? Don't you think it would be fun?"
Him: "I've just got too much work to do."
Father: "Well, son, you can't work all the time. Kids are supposed to take time to play."
Him, settling up on his dad's lap and turning to look him dead in the eye: "But you see Daddy, it's like this: I'm really a kid-man."
Father: "A kid-man?"
Him: "Yes. I'm a kid who is a man."

Later, the topic came up again -- my sister asked him to do something or other, and he again referenced the kid-man idea. Then he amended it: "But really, Mommy, I'm more of a man."

My sister is thinking of having a cape made for this new hero of action, so if you have any ties to Spielberg or Michael Bay or whoever did Spiderman, maybe you could give them a call. Their next star awaits.