Like most people, life has bestowed on me more than a few titles. Sis and Auntie are two of my favorites. Today’s celebration is sponsored by those two magnanimous titles. We’re popping bottles. My niecey boo is officially a teenager, so the bottles are lemonade, but Yep, this is one of those posts.
I knew eventually I would get promoted to auntie. So I trained for it. I mean Olympic Games caliber training. My 7 god children is a testament to my dedication. Your kid isn’t about to tell my niece their little raggedy aunt is the best, nope. We’re coming for all the titles best Papa, best auntie, best brother and sister.
Truthfully, this sibling thing got off to a rocky start. Legend says I bit him, an allegation I vehemently deny, but if I did, it was because he tried to kill me. Enough of the old stuff. That was before we became allies and friends, and way before the dopiest sister on the planet became the best auntie ever.
Once my brother stopped trying to poison me with fuzzy graham crackers and apple juice, he went about the business of becoming a full-fledged adult. That adulting led to him being promoted to papa and me to auntie. Here we are 13 years later killing it.
My mom’s mini me towers over me. She’s artistic, analytical, funny, and charismatic. The perfect blend of her dad and mom, a few splashes of her grandmothers, and enough of me sprinkled in to keep everyone on their toes. Sorry bro. Her sense of style has always been uniquely hers, quirky. Bold and stunning. When she emerges in a niecey boo original, my first thought is usually; this girl has mad style.
Being her auntie is my heart’s joy. She is perfectly flawless and flawed. I’m awestruck by her resilience and strength. She knows exactly who she wants to be and embraces the journey.
Rumor has it that teenagers come with new rules. Things like you can’t hug me, post about me on social media. Take pictures, post pictures you took after I said don’t, or talk about me in public ever. Basically, just leave the tall stranger walking around alone until they’re 25, unless they ask for money. I’m sure that every word I type debits my cool dope auntie account. It’s fine, I have a few to spare. Thank goodness because posting on Apple News and Instagram is sure to get me in trouble. If It does, it was worth it. I mean I didn’t post any recent or embarrassing pictures so there’s that. Happy birthday.
