Growing up, did you have that favorite family member ? You know the one: the one that let you get away with anything, the one that bought you candy BEFORE dinner, the one that taught you how to do cool stuff? Yeah, THAT one.
When I was pregnant with Kim, I vowed, mostly to myself, that I would be a cool Mom. And not just any cool Mom….THE Cool Mom!! Then, after what felt like an eternity, and much rippage in the nether regions, my HUGE baby (5 lbs. 9 oz.) was born, and I was a convert. Immediately, I converted from “I wanna be THE Cool Mom” to “Are you fuckin’ ‘kidding me? My kid will not be more than five feet from my side, unless properly supervised by a person with a Top Secret Security Clearance and who’s Mother’s Maiden Name I know, Mom.” As an aside, my now grown Kim has professed the desire to belong to “THE Cool Mom” Club. Chuckle! We ALL know how that is gonna turn out, right?
In any case, I truly, truly want to be Cool. So, I decided to be THE Cool Aunt/Gotchen (god-mother). Now, I don’t spend a great deal of time with my god-son, nieces or nephews, which I suppose could be a blessing, as my siblings may attest to; however, when I do, I put forth astronomical amounts of effort to be just as “Cool” as I can possibly be (under the circumstances….which is mostly due to lack of practice.)
Several months ago, while at my sisters house, my nieces were nicely playing on the back deck, when their Mama told them to get some shoes on. When they went in, she also went in, and asked if I could stay out with the girls while she does whatever she was gonna do. Okay….I suppose I could handle that. Then, the girls came out in cowboy boots – - I can’t remember if it was only one of the girls or both (my gut is tellin’ me both – - but, my memory is not cooperating).
Ah Ha!! Now is a good time to start this cool aunt business.
So I say to the girls, “Hey, ya’ll know what those are?” pointing to the boots.
The girls say, “Boots.”
I say, “Well, yeah, but, really they are called ‘Shit Kickers.’”
Both girls, knowing that “shit” is one of THOSE words got a little embarrassed and giggled.
I said, “Now, I know that is kinda a bad word, so you aren’t allowed to say it unless it is with me, okay?”
The girls giggled their approval and we sealed the deal. And for the next five or so minutes, the girls would giggly tell me that they had their ’shit kickers’ on.
Fast Forward to Sunday
My youngest niece turned three. (Yes, I did that to a two year old….sue me.) One of the gifts was a pair of cowboy boots.
Since I am the photographer, I am sitting right in front of her – - so I ask in a fairly quiet voice – - and let me point out right now, it IS me, so I can’t really guarantee that it was other people’s definition of quiet – - “What is that?”
She says, “Boots.”
I say, “What kind of boots?”
She says, “Towboy boots.” Looking at me like I lost my ever-lovin’ mind.
Her sister, to her right says, “Shit Kickers.”
I barely heard her – - and what I did hear, I didn’t really register, ’cause I was talking to the youngest one.
My girl makes a comment and I think I asked little sister again and this time big sister answered in a louder voice, “Shit Kickers, Aunt Heidi.”
That’s My Girls!! Boo-Ya!!
