My nephew Brock is the most adorable little bugger. He’s my nephew, so I’m allowed to brag. He’s already five years old, or like C-baby said just after she turned 5, “I’m a whole handful now!”
Touché.
(Blog post interrupted as Brock comes over to me to have me fix his toy… and button up his jeans… and give me a kiss.)
You can’t beat that.
Brock only sees us about once/year, being that they live in WY and we live in MN. So he’s still a bit confused as to exactly who I am and how I am related to him. We chatted about this on the way to the grocery store yesterday:
V: “Did you know you are my nephew, and I am your auntie?”
B: “Really? So I’m your nephew? You’re my antie?”
V: “Yup.”
He seemed pretty fascinated by this announcement.
Later that day he quizzed me: “Are you my nephew?”
V: “Nope, you’re MY nephew. I’m your AUNTIE.”
B: “Oh. Where is my Auntie Vicki?”
V: “I am your auntie Vicki.”
B: “No, the other one.”
V: “Oh, you mean, Uncle Kelly.”
B: “Yes, my boy Auntie Vicki.”
OK, so we’re working on that one. Familial relationships really can be confusing. But he’s so adorable. He can even call me “Uncle Kelly” if he wants to.
What a boy! But what goes around - comes around. Brock's "boy Auntie Vicki" had a similar problem with my Aunt Elsie and Uncle Ronald when he was close to the same age. He decided that the grandma-type lady was Aunt Elsie and the grandpa-type man was Aunt Runkle. Uncle Ronald was NOT pleased but Aunt Elsie thought it was funny.
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