Out of The Mouths Of Babes

Truth, with a side of smart-ass

One of my greatest joys about the decade I spent in Philadelphia was living a 20-minute ride on the 34 trolley from my just older than me sister and her two young kiddos. If you have a sibling you like and can make it happen financially, I highly recommend living in the same city at least once in your adult life. I also highly recommend sibling therapy, although that will cost you too in money, time, and so much sobbing on the 34 trolley.

Like many young folks, my niblings are exceptionally good at forcing adults to keep it real, as the kids say.

Except, indeed, the kids have stopped saying, "Keep it real," which I suppose just proves my point.

To further illustrate my point, I present two stories involving the younger of the kids, who we shall call Nibling 2

Story #1

I attended a Kids On Stage Being Cute type presentation with my sister when N2 was in second grade. Afterwards, as we munched on rice krispie treats and drank warm fruit punch outside the auditorium, N2 saw her teacher, grabbed my hand, and ran to greet her.

N2* (to teacher): This is my Aunt Kelli

Me: (Awestruck with pride that my nibling so enthusiastically wants to introduce me) Hi, glad to meet you! I've heard so much…(launching into a highly engaged Relative Talking With A Young School Age Kids' Teacher Chat)

N2* (interrupting and motioning towards me) She puts french fries up her nose.

Teacher: (Speechless, clearly waiting for me to produce french fries from my backpack and confirm N2's assertion)

Me: Well (Long pause). Um. I mean. Well. Um. Not all the time.

Teacher: (raises eyebrow)

N2: (beaming silence, clearly overjoyed by the awkwardness of the interaction)

Teacher: Well, anyway, nice to meet you.

To be fair, N2 was not misrepresenting the truth.

I have indeed put french fries up my nose.

But not frequently and –more importantly, I believe– not all the way.

I have only inserted two french fries (one in each nostril) just at the beginning of my nares, carefully arranged so that they jut out and resemble–in my mind at least– the tusks of an elephant.

It's a distraction technique that I use in emergencies, for example, when I had taken N2 and her brother out to eat, and they had slipped into incessant bickering.

It works, by the way. If you don't mind being introduced as Aunt Kelli, who puts french fries up her nose.

Story #2

A few years later, N2 and I were chatting about school dances. I mentioned that I went to a 6th-grade dance wearing a Right Guard costume that I made myself. I even dug out a photo.

Please explain to me how I had this much confidence. In 6th grade. Wearing this constume

I joked it was hard getting someone to dance with me.

N2's response: "Wait, Aunt Kelli, it was....um, it was definitely a Halloween dance, right?"

If I had started with story #2, you may have thought that N2 was misjudging my social skills. But based on story #1, it becomes clear that her question was clearly reasonable and perhaps even essential.

PS

I was stumbling down that “kids these days, so much wiser than we were”thought-road. Until I went to look for the right guard costume photo. and I came across this beauty, which I made for my mom when I was in 3rd grade.

PSS Did I forget the cat photo? Indeed I did not.

Tomorrow! The first of the AMA responses!

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