Just a typical Sunday, hangin’ with my family.
Sometimes when I come over, this little possum just stares at me for the first ten minutes or so. And then she’ll come up to me, sigh lovingly, and put her little hand on my cheek.
It is at this point, my uterus taps impatiently on my arm and tells me that I should have a baby of my own. Immediately.
When I snap out of my daydream, Sydnee has done something horrific like biting her brother on the leg, or pulling tiny fistfuls of hair out of her father’s beard whilst squealing at a pitch so high, I get sharp pains in my brain.
It is at this point that my uterus quickly turns back to me, grabs my arm, and says, “Actually… don’t worry about that last comment. I didn’t mean it! I swear!”
Being just an Aunty suits me just fine.