The black side bars on iPhone video makes me want to stab my eyes out. Speaking of stabbing, half of the Saturday morning crowd wanted to do just that when my niece ordered wiener for breakfast.
I would like to point out this is not a learned behavior. I may be a bad influence when it comes to drinking and cursing, but sex is off the table. And floor. And bed.
I digress.
The point? She didn’t learn about wiener from me. I’m a vegan.
Last night while reading a book to my niece, tears started rolling down my cheeks. She looked at me like I’d lost my mind. I tried to explain the story was especially poignant for me, but it’s incredibly difficult to express to a child that I’m so obsessed with finding perfection that I often forget to find happiness. So I did what I do best, I illustrated the point with a drinking example.
“It’s like a mint julep Hannah. I’ve always wanted one, but haven’t.”
“Why?”
“You can drink a mint julep anywhere, but in my head it has to be perfect. I need to be in Savannah, Georgia on a porch swing with someone I love.”
“Aunt Sarah, your head is wrong and kinda weird.”
Ouch. Who needs therapy when you have an insightful niece?
Last year my nephew, Carter, mastered the art of ‘your mom’ jokes. It was a little rough at first, but he eventually caught on. This year it’s his sister, Hannah’s, turn. We started last night.
“Hannah you’re a pug licker.”
“Oh.”
“Come on, Hannah, what do you say?”
“Thank you.”
“NO! You’re supposed to say your mom is a pug licker.”
“Well that’s just ridiculous. No one licks pugs and I was being polite.”
“Hannah, you don’t really have to lick pugs. It’s a hypothetical.”
“Grandma said you’re not allowed to teach me those anymore.”
“Well Grandma is fired. If I don’t teach you how to make dirty jokes and play the hypothetical game who will?”
“Your mom.”
DAMMIT. The six-year-old wins again.
Someday I’m going to cherish the extra time I’ve been spending with my niece and nephew, but currently I’m rolling my eyes and laughing at them a lot.
“Aunt Sarah your puppy reminds me of a boy.”
“She’s a girl.”
“I know that, duh. I said she REMINDS me of a boy.”
“OK, why does she remind you of a boy?”
“She sleeps all the time and brings slugs into the house.”
“Hannah, which boys do that?”
“All of them.”
“Have you been hanging out with my high school ex-boyfriends?”
“No. I don’t even know what an ex boyfriend is.”
“It’s the boys you don’t ever marry.”
“Oh, well I want a LOT of ex boyfriends.”
I don’t think she has anything to worry about. With her sassy personality I suspect she’ll have a lifetime supply of ex-boyfriends… just like her auntie.
Last night Hannah asked if we could lie on my bed and listen to music together. I really wanted to drink wine and watch crap TV, but how do you say no to such a sweet, innocent request?
Um, you don’t.
After she played “You Belong With Me” by Taylor Swift for the nine millionth time she started analyzing the lyrics.
“Aunt Sarah, this song is totally about us!”
“Um, how so?”
“You wear short skirts and I wear t-shirts. You wear high heels and I wear sneakers.”
“Hannah you think my skirts are too short? Even when I’m wearing tights with them?”
“I’m six years old, woman, I don’t know.”
“Stop calling me woman.”
“Well then stop talking about other stuff. I only want to talk about how this song is about us. Aunt Sarah, it’s like Taylor Swift and I are the same person!”
“Well that’s gross. Your brother thinks Taylor Swift is hot, so you’re saying he thinks you’re hot? Hannah this isn’t Kentucky.”
“Aunt Sarah, sometimes I don’t even understand you. Or want to.”
