Had a good time at my aunt's house in Alabang yesterday. All the kids were there, children of my cousins. The three girls were in their element, although they're growing up fast. Camille was actually in black flare pants (at eight years old! I remember I didn't own anything black until high school--but that was then of course, this is now). Pam was in a bad mood but managed to break out into a smile before we left. Angel, four, did the otso-otso perfectly. She even coached Nins, telling her, "pwede na" ("That'll do."). Louie was a bad boy, although hard to scold because he was super cute. Tsk tsk I understand now how some problems get rooted. He was really really cute though. And then there was Carlos, all of one year and five months and almost three feet tall and two feet around. He looked like a mob boss (Don Vito, to be more precise) waddling around and scowling, so cute too!
I realize we're all getting older. We used to be the "stars" of the Christmas day celebrations that have become a tradition at my aunt's house. Now it's the next generation. I do love my cousins' kids, but I don't really relish having kids of my own. Maybe someday.