While Papa Tom took my boys to an indoor arcade and go-kart track, Mom and my niece Brenna and I all decided to have a girl's afternoon out and go do girly things.
Brenna is a very girly girl. She is precious and precocious and doesn't understand my penchant for hyperbole.
She got to have a manicure. Pink fingernails with little white flowers on the thumbs.
And she got to have her toenails painted. She chose turquoise, with little white flowers on the big toes.
We then went to have tea, and Brenna chose a pink petit-four.
That pink icing never stood a chance.
At some point in the afternoon, Mom and I lost control of the conversation. We were asked somewhere around a thousand questions, some of which were, quite frankly, unanswerable. And some I'm still thinking about. She told us after tea that she had to get home to go to a super secret emergency meeting. When Mom asked what it was about, she answered simply and without any guile, "Granny, it's secret."
We had a conversation about ladylike manners, and at one point she demonstrated the way her little brother might attack a little pink, iced cake.
Me. Oh, Brenna. Heavens to Betsy.
Brenna. (blinks) Aunt Carrie, who's Betsy?
There were a million other exchanges much like this one. She's a very literal girl. And I'm somewhat prone to the dramatic. It makes for an interesting aunt/niece dynamic that involves a lot of me explaining myself and a lot of Brenna looking at me like I'm nuts, which may or may not be true. I love that girl, though. She may have a five year plan to rule the world.
I wouldn't know. I wasn't invited to that super secret, emergency meeting.