It's something we're not supposed to do, but if we're honest with ourselves, we all do. It's definitely not something you should post a public blog about, but here we are. I don't have kids of my own, but between my 2 older siblings, I have 7 nieces and nephews. And I have a favorite. So you know I'm not a monster, let me tell you right off that I love all these kids, and would literally do anything for any one of them. That being said, my brother's kids are out of the running, and it's because of my brother. He and his wife are born-again Christians, along with their kids, and I am decidedly NOT. We all get along, but as far as they're concerned, I'm a "black sheep," because I smoke, drink, curse, and am fairly heavily tattooed. I will sometimes catch his kids staring at me like they're from Billy Graham's Village of the Damned. And his oldest daughter once told me, "...no-one in her family has tattoos."
Sorry, kid, but your uncle does. Which brings us to my sister's kids. She has 3, two girls and a boy (the boy is the middle-child). They're a more typical group of kids, they're loud, they fight with each other, and generally run around like maniacs. But among these 3 hooligans, there's a stand-out. A weird little kid, with a sophisticated (and somewhat devious) sense of humor for her age, my sister's youngest daughter, who we'll call "C". The perfect example is the following story.
One weekend, my mom agreed to watch my sister's two younger kids, C and her older brother Q. They were 5 and 8, respectively. I came by to see the kids, and hang out for a while. Shortly after I got there, Q asked my mom for a piece of toast (at that age, it was one of the few things he'd eat). She said she'd do it in a minute, and asked C if she wanted a piece as well, to which C replied that she didn't like toast. Within a few minutes, Q was relentlessly pestering my mom about the toast, to the point she raised her voice to tell him to cool it. Some time passed, I was coloring with C, while Q watched TV, and my mom finally came in with his toast. Without fail, Q tells my mom he doesn't want it anymore (which I found pretty funny), and my mom starts yelling at Q about bugging her for so long, just to end up wasting the toast. Then, out of nowhere, C says she'll eat it. My mom gives her the toast and goes back into the other room, loudly praising C as she goes. So she's kneeling on a step-stool, looking at me as she eats her toast, with her brother sulking on the couch because he got yelled at, and I say to her, "I thought you didn't like toast."
This little shit looks at me with the biggest grin on her face, and says, "I loooove toast, now." She was FIVE! š¤£š¤£š¤£
That's just one example out of many, and probably my favorite C story. She's also the one who gave me my "family nickname". When she was 3 or 4, she could say my name, but couldn't quite manage the word "uncle". So ever since, I've been known within my family as "Michael Michael"ā¤. So don't feel bad if you have a favorite kid in your family, we all do.
