So I’m an auntie….it’s true. My brother, who like me, was very adamant about disliking the parasite nation of children much like myself, decided a handful of years ago to feel his mortality. I know, I know, but it’s true. So here we are, 5 years later, and I am a very proud auntie of a 5year-old-something nephew. Yes. I am Auntie M. As a very proud auntie, I support my blood by going to his functions; more specifically…his first on-stage-mortifying-force-you-to-participate-class-function sing along ‘Jingle Bells’ bullshit. He is adorable, truth. I babysit my uber smart nephew once a week...but in all reality, I think my brother does it in hopes of me disliking the parasite nation a little less…
So me, loving my nephew, must attend my beloved blood rite’s first public humiliation situation…a Christmas sing song something or other. I must admit (between you and me) that shit was fucking adorable. It slightly pulled at my uterus strings. TRUTH. Shhh, it’s a secret (since I’m really not in the mood for kids any time soon). A bunch of kindergarten and first graders singing some festive song…my nephew not really caring; just wishing the shit was over-I could totally see it in his eyes. He was me at that age. My brother has been blessed with a child, that in essence, got me as a child; poor bastard-BUT-but...the minute that kid comes up to me and latches onto my leg, I gotta admit…
I LOVE being an auntie.
(look for the translucent child that glows in the dark. That's my fam)
(best looking kid in the whole world. don't trip, you know its truth)
Friday, December 11, 2009
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