I am picking up my seven-year-old nephew from school. I ask how his day went since he looks pretty sour, and after a little pressure:

Nephew: “I was reprimanded in music class and told to write to not say swears in the classroom. It’s so unfair!”

Me: “Oh? What did you do?”

Nephew: “I was told to research and present some stuff about my favorite song, things like rhythm and style, and write what it is about, but the teacher got pissed when I sang mine. She didn’t get angry at others!”

I’m puzzled, and sort of not believing what he’s saying, but I figure it’s worth letting him tell the whole story.

Me: “Uh… but what song was it? Do you remember the lyrics?”

Nephew: “It was [Song], and I remember the lyrics! Listen: ‘Australian Aborigines lay down on the ground and, with a roar of fertility, release their c** into the Earth.’”

I freeze, a little startled by the… unusual choice of song, both because the singer it’s from is not the easiest of songwriters to understand, even for adults, because the sound is pretty atypical, and because, well, the lyrics aren’t the most appropriate. I stop close by his home, trying to keep my poker face.

Me: “Do you actually understand what that stanza is saying?”

Nephew: “Yeah! Aboriginal people sometimes lay belly-down on the ground, and then they spray the boys’ seed of life into the Earth.”

Me: “But you know what that seed of life is?”

Nephew: “No… Actually, do you know?”

I pretended to not know, as I wasn’t exactly thrilled by the prospect of explaining ejaculation like that, but I did get to talk with his dad. Apparently, his father — my brother — and his wife had decided to do away with parental control on media as soon as he started grade school… even if it meant having some very awkward talks with teachers about the child’s language and tastes.

I’m looking after my four-year-old nephew for the day. I have recently joined a new bank and have to pop in to sign some paperwork. The bank teller greets me and my nephew.

Teller: “Would you prefer to be addressed as Mr. [Last Name] or [First Name]?”

I’m about to respond when my nephew speaks up with a very serious look on his face.

Nephew: “That’s Uncle [First Name]!”

The teller and I look at each other and try really hard not to laugh.

Teller: “Quite right, sir!”

And that’s why everyone at the bank calls me “Uncle [First Name]”!

My niece is around three.

Me: “I love you, [Niece].”

Niece: “I know. Everyone loves me.”

Me: “Oh? Everyone does?”

Niece: “Uh-huh. Mommy is always telling me she love me, and [Grandmother] does, and my teachers all love me.”

Me: “I understand why they would all love you. You’re smart, kind, and one of the best-behaved kids I’ve ever known. What’s not to love?”

I still smile when I remember her confidence in declaring everyone loved her. I hope she can keep up that self-esteem as she gets older!

This story is part of our Feel Good roundup for April 2021!

Read the next Feel Good roundup for April 2021 story!

Read the Feel Good roundup for April 2021!

As an “honorary” uncle, I am playing with my two-year-old niece one day when she decides to bring all her horse dolls out to play with. Two of them are about the same size while the third is noticeably smaller.

Me: “They could be a mommy and daddy horse and their baby horse.”

Practically the moment I say that, I realize I don’t want to imply that this is the only “right” sort of family unit, especially since my niece was conceived via sperm donor and so doesn’t have a father. Thus, I quickly decide I need to add some other suggestions.

Me: “Or maybe it’s a mommy horse, another mommy, and their baby?”

Niece: “You can’t have two mommies.”

Niece’s Mother: “Sure, you can! What about [Friend]? She has two mommies, doesn’t she?”

Niece: “Oh.”

Niece’s Mother: “Or maybe it’s a mommy horse, a grandma horse, and a baby horse.”

Until recently, [Niece] and her mother lived with her grandmother while their house was being renovated, so a mommy horse and grandma horse better describe their “family unit.”

Me: “Or maybe it’s a mommy horse and an uncle horse who came to play with his favorite niece horse!”

Our play quickly moved on to other things, but I’m glad I was able to catch my mistake in time to fix my original suggestion, and particularly thankful that my niece’s mother picked up on what I was trying to do and backed me up so quickly.

I’m a known sperm donor. I’ve donated sperm for a few individuals who needed help. I make it clear that, while I’m always happy to help, I always prefer if I can meet the children I donated for, and luckily, a few parents have allowed me that opportunity. In particular, the parents of two kids have made me an “honorary uncle” for their kids. I often visit and play with them, and these two kids in particular have also become close friends and playmates with each other.

My “nephew” is around three and my “niece” is closer to four. The niece’s mother has been very open about explaining how I donated sperm for her. Meanwhile, my nephew’s parents haven’t chosen to explain my donation for him.  

There is an annual fair that I always attend with my niece happening this day, and we invite my nephew, as well. His parents are both busy with moving to a new home on that day, so we offered to take him with us to the fair as a way to keep him out of their hands while moving.

Nephew: “Daddy, can we… Oh.”

Me: “I’m not your daddy!”

This was clearly just a slip-up on my nephew’s part; he forgot who he was talking to for a second. Unfortunately, despite knowing better, I was foolish enough to comment on it. My nephew decides that this is funny and proceeds to call me Daddy over and over as a joke. The problem is that my nephew already has a wonderful dad, even if that dad wasn’t able to produce sperm for him, and as a donor, I am quite aware of how important it is that he not call me daddy, even as a joke.

Me: “[Nephew], you shouldn’t call me that. I’m not your daddy.”

Niece: “Well, actually, you gave his mommy sperm, so…”

Now I’m freaked out. I was aware that my niece knew I donated sperm, but I honestly didn’t think she had connected “gave Mommy sperm so she could have me” with the concept of “father” yet. I absolutely did not expect her to interrupt my attempt to distract him with this little speech.

I rush to cut her off.

Me: “Which makes me a donor, but that’s all I am!” *To my nephew* “I really don’t like being called Daddy; it makes me feel bad. How about we think up some better names to call me? Like ‘The Amazing Uncle’ or ‘Sir Awesome McCoolName’?”

Thankfully, my nephew was easily distracted enough at that age that he didn’t appear to have registered or understood my niece’s statement at all and was quickly distracted with funny names to call his uncle.

Later, when I could catch her in private, I spoke with my niece about how some parents weren’t as open as her mother was and that it was important to respect parents’ wishes when it came to what to tell their kids. She promised not to tell any of the other donor siblings about my donating to them unless an adult told her she could, and she has been very careful about not doing so ever since. Luckily, she is one of the few kids you can trust to actually keep a secret when asked! And so, I barely scraped by our fair visit without any upset parents!