My niece and nephew call me Aunt Teek. Say it out loud. Fun, isn't it? It is unless you're the one being called an Antique. I can thank my delightful, charming sister for giving me that name. When her son was born, she immediately started referring to me as Aunt Teek. It stuck. I hate it. I've been trying to get them to call me Aunt Heather, but they don't know who Aunt Heather is. I am Aunt Teek. Erin says it's payback for all the rotten things I did to her while we were growing up. However, I clearly recall getting my ass kicked by her on a few occasions. Seems like THAT would have been payback enough.
While we were in Virginia, I ate an obscene amount of the turkey leftovers. I stood right there at the platter, stuffing my belly full. While everyone else was moaning and groaning on the couch, I continued to nibble at the carcass, to the point where I actually made myself sick. Seriously. It was simply too tasty to walk away, and at the time, puking actually seemed like an acceptable punishment for my over-indulgence.
Step away from the bird, Piper. Step away.
When I could eat no more, I heaved my body toward the couch, unbuttoning my jeans. No sooner had my butt hit the sofa, Elizabeth screamed, "MOMMY I GO TO POTTY NOW!"
Which means, "Run, Mom, run!"
So I ran (actually, I waddled) as fast as I could to the bathroom, hoisting childypants on to the potty. I squatted to hold her in place because little bottoms tend to fall into big potty chairs. All the sudden I heard a snicker behind me, and Erin's husband screeched,
"OH MY GOURD, LOOK AT HER CRACK!"
In my rush to keep Elizabeth accident-free, I forgot to button my jeans and they slipped straight down below visible crack line, exposing my startlingly white butt cheeks. And Patrick, (Erin's husband) felt the need to not only throw up a little bit, but he had to ANNOUNCE THE APPEARANCE OF MY BUTT CRACK TO THE WORLD
Because we all know, Patrick has never seen anyone's ass crack before. Not even his own.
So, for the whole weekend, I was the butt of all jokes.
Erin called yesterday and told me that her daughter, who ADORES Brian, was looking through the holiday pictures, pointed to Uncle Brian and said, "Cracker!"
Here's how the convo went down:
Maybe she's calling him something else. . .
What would she be calling him?
What exactly does she say?
"Where is Belay (Libby)? Where is Kwacker?"
Did he feed her crackers?
Not that I know of.
Maybe she is calling someone else cracker . . .
Who else would she be calling cracker?
*pause*
(joking) she's probably calling me crack wh*re for the relentless amount of ridiculing you guys doled out to me!
THAT'S IT! You're RIGHT! Awwww, now I'm going to start calling you the CRACK WH*RE.
Shut up.
Dude, seriously. It works.
Whatever. It's better than AUNT TEEK. I'll take it.
You're going to blog about this, aren't you?
Probably. My life's been pretty dull lately and the thyroid meds aren't working any more.