My three year old nephew, Joey, is quite a unique kid.  He's inquisitive and intelligent and energetic.  And like most children, he finds wonder in life's mundane moments.  Hence, the question, "Is that monkey poop?"

Where he comes up with this stuff I'll never know. 

My parents baby-sat him and his five year old brother the other day.  Matty, the older brother, is just as curious as Joey, only more reserved.  I hesitate to say "mature" because anybody who refers to his penis as his turtle, hasn't yet earned mature status.  But, as the older brother, he has taken on the leadership role with fervor.

He's logical and responsible and looks after his younger sibling (when he doesn't have him in a headlock.)  In other words, no one is allowed to put Joey in a headlock except Matty, or there'll be hell to pay.  It's a normal brotherly relationship.

They're both at that wonderful age when their personalities are developing daily.  Matty thrives at concentration games and solo activities.  Joey is rarely still and very flitty, jumping from idea to idea without the intensive focus of Matty.

Is that monkey poop?

My mom had given the boys their baths and was finishing Joey up when he began one of his endless question sessions.  These spurts have given us such gems as "You wanna knuckle sandwich?" (while holding his small fist in front of his scrunched face) and "You talkin' to me?" (guess who visited the Italian side of the family in New York for a week?)

Mom cleaned Joey's ears and when she pulled the Q-tip out, it had a pretty nice gob of wax on the end.  Without hesitation, Joey asked, "Is that monkey poop?"  My mom had no answer, as I'm sure I wouldn't have either.  Monkey poop?

Where did this imaginative description come from?  Another innocent three year old?  His malicious older brother?  A bored adult tired of answering life's mundane questions?

We may never know ...

And just this past Sunday, the boys were visiting and I, the great and mighty uncle I am, was impressing them with amazing magic tricks.  I made small objects disappear from my hands and reappear later at my will.  I pulled the classic move of producing a disappeared object from behind Joey's ear, to which he exclaimed with excitement, "The monkey had it!"

He's figured out the magic.  It will no longer impress him. 

Monkeys.  Living in ears.  Maybe he's onto something.  It would explain my ear-aches as a child.  Could be an interesting excuse to call in to work with ... The monkey's acting up again.  I took some Tylenol and that usually calms him down.  I'll try again tomorrow. 

Hmmm ... nevertheless, it raises awareness that it's good personal hygiene to clean the monkey poop out of your ears daily.

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