Bragging Rights

Ahh blogging.  It's been a while since I've had time to breathe let alone blog.  Breathing: there is an interesting concept, and not one the designer of my bridesmaid's dress is all too familiar with, but that is another blog for another day, because today I get to do something most bloggers get to write about: bragging about children.  This isn't something I ever have the privilege to do, being senescent, single, and selfish with no offspring to show for my 21 almost 22 (shudder) years.  

But today I cross the bounds of the first dates vs. first steps.  I bring to you stories of my nephew's first publication.  

My sister, bored in church, wrote in large letters on her hand for her 6 year-old to read:  U R A Freak, and then showed him her hand.  He, being a good sport, gave her an elbow and quickly got to work on what would be his retaliation.  My sister reports a solid ten minutes of steady writing before the finished product.  When the paper was given back to my sister, it read, in unsteady kindergarten penmanship, "don't you wish your boyfriend was a freak like me."  I'm not sure what a mother feels when her child takes a first step, babbles the word, 'mama' for the first time, or finally graduates from rehab and comes home for the first time in three months, but I am quite convinced it's something of the pride and adoration I felt for my 6-year-old nephew Carter when he fired Pussy Cat Doll lyrics in counterattack towards my sister... all during the middle of church.