(I’ve just had a baby. My niece is almost five and has been wanting to play with my newborn daughter.)
Me: “[Baby] is too young to play with you yet; just wait until she grows a bit.”
Niece: “She’s too young?”
Me: “Yes. You just have to wait a few months.”
Niece: “Oh, but by then, I’ll be at school and will be too old to play with babies.”
(My niece is two, and shy, but can be loud if she really wants to. She is hiding behind her grandma — my mom — and refusing to directly talk to me. I am about to go on a trip to China, and I ask her what she wants. She whispers to Grandma.)
Grandma: “She wants a stuffed panda.”
Me: “Okay, a stuffed giant panda.”
Niece: *whispering*
Grandma: “No, it’s a small one.”
Niece: *more whispering*
Grandma: “No, honey, like the photos we just showed you; pandas are black and white, not pink.”
Niece: *suddenly loud* “I want a pink baby panda! They are so cute!”
Me: “Okay, a pink panda.”
Grandma: “I need to teach you both colors.”
(When I got back, I sent my niece a panda with pink dress and bow, and for my mom, I brought back a magazine titled “Giant Panda” with an article about the baby panda, all pink without any fur. Sorry, Grandma, but the two-year-old was technically right.)
(I get home from work to see my mom’s microwave in the middle of the counter, inside a salt circle. Knowing my mom, I expect there is a logical explanation, but as she is at work and has only left me a note saying we are not to touch or move the microwave, I don’t know what that explanation is. My niece comes in and looks at the microwave, bemused. We are both “Supernatural” fans.)
Niece: “What is going on there?”
Me: *shows her the note* “I think your grandma captured a demon in the microwave.”
(It turns out that my mom read online that salt repels ants and she was trying to protect her microwave from them.)
(For weeks, a woman that I work with has been excitedly telling me that her little niece from another state is coming to stay with her for a few days. For the record, this coworker is in her mid-thirties, married but childless, and she is always talking about her little niece.)
Coworker: “You’ll meet my little niece today; [Husband] is dropping her off on his way to work so she won’t be at home alone.”
Me: “Oh, that’ll be nice”
Coworker: “Yes, it’ll be so cute! She’s going to help out here, but I am a bit worried about what I am going to tell [Husband’s Sister] about what she did last night.”
Me: “Oh?”
Coworker: “Yes. She decided she wanted to see [Major City], so we took her there, but she also wanted to go and see [Notorious Part of the City].”
(That area used to be well-known for having brothels, but has cleaned up over the last ten years and become a respectable location.)
Me: “Oh, that area’s not so bad now.”
Coworker: “But I still have to tell her mother, and I know she wouldn’t be allowed to do that sort of thing at home. It’s her first time away from home.”
(About half an hour later, I see my coworker talking to a woman.)
Coworker: “Oh, [My Name], my little niece is here. Come and meet her.”
(I look around for a child.)
Woman: *looking embarrassed* “Oh, come on, [Coworker]. When are you ever going to stop calling me that? I’m five years younger than you!”
Coworker: “But you were little when I first met you!”
Woman: “No, I wasn’t; I was fifteen.”
(At a wedding reception, I am seated next to my niece. She is telling me about the dangers of cooties from boys.)
Me: “But Uncle [My Husband] told me that girls are the ones with cooties!”
Niece: “Girls have cooties, too, but boy cooties and girl cooties don’t mix. That’s why boys and girls can’t kiss.”
Me: “What about me and Uncle [My Husband]? We kiss.”
(My niece sits in thought for a few moments before replying.)
Niece: “Well, that’s okay, because when you get married your cooties become romanti-cooties and they get along.”
