It's Komo not Komodo

8:30pm. My little nephew, is up. I can hear him - way past his bedtime. I lumber up the stairs to see what's what. There he is in his pyjamas, one leg lifted in a yogic pose like his father taught him. 'Christi-ahne', he says pronouncing my name in that delightful British manner he has. "I am hung-ahry." Well come with me, then. And down we go hand in hand to the kitchen. What do you want to eat? He spins circles around the open island and table and chairs. I dunno, he says. How 'bout a yogurt, I say, as I open the fridge. No, he says shaking his head. How 'bout some toast? A sandwich, he says. I think a sandwich is too much for him at this time of night, so we compromise. He asks for a bagel. 'Komo, can I have this with your special recipe?' My special recipe? He looks up at me and smiles, 'Butta. I like the way you butta the bagel!' Oh, I laugh.

Komo is Korean for 'father's sister' and thus is the word for 'auntie'. Since landing here, I have learned a few things about my status as 'auntie'. First of all it is 'Komo' not Komodo. He reminds me when I stumble on the word that I am an 'auntie' not a dragon. Secondly, when announcing my new name, my nephew stands erect, places his hands together in prayer and bows gracefully...while winking at me cheekily. Third, I am a 'nicey' not a 'meanie'. That's a good thing. I haven't been here a long time, and he has already figured that out.

As he spins around the kitchen tonight, chewing his bagel in great speedy mouthfuls, I suggest to him that he slowwww his chewing. He looks at me and chews faster. Something comes over me and I say to him, 'Let's do the chewing ballet!' He stops and stares at me as my arms shoot out in front and behind me and I launch into a particularly silly pas de deux, all the while chewing outrageously slowly. My nephew finds this utterly amusing as he creates his own version of a chewing ballet -- exaggerated slow chewing and lots of leaping and bounding. I tell him the 'chewing ballet' can be done any time day or night -- and is especially good after eating and before swimming or sleeping. You know, I tell him, if you eat before swimming and don't digest your food properly, you can drop like a stone to the bottom of the pool. He looks at me as if he's heard it all before, hands me the last of his bagel, and yawns. He's heard it all before and he's had enough. "Go to sleep, Komo," he says, taking my hand.