6 going on Lawyer

Dear 1of3 version 2.0,

I talked to you on the phone today and nothing anyone will ever tell me will convince me that you are not 10 years old. When I asked you how old you were, you said 6. When I said no way, and that I was sure you were starting college, you said, "No Auntie, I just started Kindergarten." No giggle, no nothing. Just a smug little 'You poor, stupid woman'.

You have always been smarter and witter and funnier than a kid has a right to. You remind me of your dad when he was that little, just without the angst. I love you for that; for showing me what my brother should have been, what he was inside if just someone had ever been nice to him. You made him a daddy, and that was what he was born to do, and so I owe you one, kid. You got a dad, I got my brother back. Thanks.

I don't have a lot to say to you today, on your 6th birthday, mostly because I don't think even you can read at this level just yet, and I'm betting you're way too busy playing with your Transformers or torturing your little brother to read your old Auntie's blog, but just know this, little man...

You auntie loves you. So bad. I don't care at all that I've seen you three whole times in your life, and I don't give a dingo's kidneys that you wouldn't know it was me if I bumped into you at the mall. 'Cause kid, you're my family. You look like us and talk like us and walk like us and geek the hell out just like we do.

I am so proud that my kids have a cousin like you.

And maybe, just maybe, if you promise not to EVER show anyone this god awful picture of me,

maybe I'll tell you some really juicy stories about your dad someday. I love you little man. Happy birthday.