My Nephew Farts in Bed

My nephew farts in the double bed across the room
Two juicy blasts
The result of midnight cocoa and microwaved s’mores and eggrolls.

I’d offered up the extra bed to my sister
when she said the kids wouldn’t share anymore.
Nate tapped on the door, pajama’d,
Lured in by Adult Swim, nuked marshmallows, unsupervised texting.
Nephews are an easy catch.

I have just one more night to find the right bait to hook my niece,
the shy and subtle Sophie.
One more day to connect
with Soph at eleven,
but she keeps her mother between us
and whispers her words.

The next time I see her, she’ll be twelve. Twelve! Too old to hold hands! Too old to bead bracelets!
What are my options? Dark chocolate? Cartoons? Pay-per-view Disnesy?
If we paint our toenails, will she paint on a smile?

A childless aunt is not that appealing. Too scary, too desperate, too something, I guess.

On the morning we check out
Trumpets awake me.
My nephew is farting in my extra bed.