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Last year my nephew, Carter, mastered the art of ‘your mom’ jokes. It was a little rough at first, but he eventually caught on. This year it’s his sister, Hannah’s, turn. We started last night.

“Hannah you’re a pug licker.”

“Oh.”

“Come on, Hannah, what do you say?”

“Thank you.”

“NO! You’re supposed to say your mom is a pug licker.”

“Well that’s just ridiculous. No one licks pugs and I was being polite.”

“Hannah, you don’t really have to lick pugs. It’s a hypothetical.”

“Grandma said you’re not allowed to teach me those anymore.”

“Well Grandma is fired. If I don’t teach you how to make dirty jokes and play the hypothetical game who will?”

“Your mom.”

DAMMIT. The six-year-old wins again.

I got a little stir crazy at a family party this weekend and decided to tattoo my nephew.

He pondered the display of love for a moment,

but ended up taking matters into his own hands.

He just looks so smug.

Apparently he forgot I know the garage code…

AND where his dad keeps the permanent markers. Vengeance be mine.

As far as I’m concerned it’s my job, as an auntie, to lie and torture my niece and nephew. Lying is a wholesome family activity. What? It was either that or teaching them how to play beer pong.

A few months ago my niece, Hannah, asked me how old I was. I lied and said I was 21-years-old. I’d forgotten all about it until Hannah called me at work last Friday in a fit that her brother, Carter, told her I was really 35-years-old.

I don’t know why he’s out to get me. First he calls me a cougar and now this?

Hannah’s defense was that I never lie to her… um, yeah.

I calmed her down and explained to her that her brother was the big, fat liar and that I was, indeed, 21-years-old.

“But Aunt Sarah, you’re older than my daddy.”

“Sweetie it’s all about the emotional age. Your daddy is much, much older than I am. Don’t I look younger than your daddy?”

“Yes.”

Whew. It’s like she knew all future Christmas and birthday presents were riding on that one answer. Carter later decided I must be younger than his dad because I was much smaller.

I’m pretending he called me skinny.

P.S. I’m totally lying on the beer pong thing, by the way. I suck way too much at the game to attempt to teach anyone.

After having the below conversation with my nephew, I decided being an aunt is the hardest job in the world. Parents have the right to beat their children. Aunts don’t. You tell me which is the easier way to deal with kids?

Yeah… I rest my case.

“Aunt Sarah, do you remember when you wore your yellow alligator underwear at my house?”

“I do Buddy, but why do you? That was three years ago.”

“I just really didn’t like them. I don’t think girls should wear boy underwear.”

“Carter they were boxers I wore to bed. Not all day underwear.”

“Well I don’t care. I’m buying you real underwear for your birthday, and they are going to be blue with cougars all over them.”

“Why are cougars OK, but alligators aren’t?”

“Because, Aunt Sarah, you are a cougar.”

“CARTER! I’m not a cougar. Who even told you that?”

“Nobody. I just know things.”

“You’re such a brat. Do you even know what that means?”

“Duh. It means you love BYU.”

I didn’t know where to start, so I didn’t. I’m not a BYU fan, nor am I a cougar, but some things aren’t worth explaining to a six-year-old. It’s much better to spend that time thinking of ways to get even. There’s going to be a very painful wedgie in his immediate future.

My beloved niece and nephew have a new addition to their home:

You know what word is practically impossible to screw up? PUG! They should get one.

The Utah/BYU rivalry runs deep in my family. My mom graduated from BYU, while my dad is University of Utah alumni. Needless to say college football season makes for a very tense household at the Nielson residence.

My brothers and I inherited my dad’s love of the University of Utah. I guess we know a good thing when we see it. My nephew, Carter, however doesn’t. Yesterday on our drive to the country I was trying to entertain him by pointing out silly buildings.

“Look, Buddy, Utah Rocks.”

“No, Aunt Sarah, it doesn’t. BYU does.”

“Um… I was just pointing out the rock gift shop, not college teams, but Utah does rock. That’s where I go.”

“Pfff…”

My darling grandmother just had her 80th birthday. To celebrate we went to the country for a picnic in the park. I drove with my brother, Matt, and his kids. When Matt ran into a gas station for a drink I quizzed Carter to see if he remembered how to tell ‘your mom’ jokes. The last time didn’t go so well, but now I think he’s getting the hang of it:

Teaching five-year-olds the art of ‘your mom’ jokes is not an easy undertaking. I wouldn’t suggest doing it sober. After I explained to my nephew, Carter, how to properly make one, we had a practice session. IT DID NOT GO WELL!

Carter: “You’re silly.”

Me: “Your mom is silly.”

Carter: “She is really, really silly. I love her.”

Me: “Buddy that’s now how it works. Let’s try it again.”

Carter: “You smell like diapers.”

Me: “Your mom smells like diapers.

Carter: “NO SHE DOESN’T! She smells pretty. You smell pretty too Aunt Sarah. Like cookies.”

I gave up and told him we’d try again when he was older, and maybe then he would understand. His twin sister Hannah got upset and said,  “Aunt Sarah I get it, but I’m older by three whole minutes so I’m smarter.” To which I replied, “No Hannah you’re smarter because you’re a girl.”

I feel like honestly is always the best policy, especially with young and impressionable children.

I’m thankful for a brother who is teaching his son how to throw down gang signs while riding around on my little pink scooter.  I’m also thankful for the people who didn’t point and laugh at them like I did.

I’m also thankful for the rest of my crazy family.  Without them, I’d be sane.  And really who wants sanity?  I sure as hell don’t!

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!  Enjoy the time spent with your family, also eat pie for me since I’m off sugar and stuck flying today.  Please note: I hate pumpkin, cherry and apple pies.  I like pecan and berry pies–warmed with vanilla ice cream.

My niece and nephew’s mom emailed me to share this story:

Hannah took one of her many cell phones to school for show-n-tell.  In the car she decided it necessary to make some calls. Sarah being first on the list.  She started talking to you about how she was annoyed that I made her wear socks to school today vs. her flip-flops (she even rolled her eyes as I watched her through the rear-view mirror). Then she started telling you how pretty you are and how she wants to be pretty like you.  Then she said, “I know Sarah, I’m very pretty too.”    Carter stepped in and told me, “Actually, I think Aunt Sarah is pretty”.

Let me tell you, it couldn’t have come at a better time.  I’m currently having a fat week, an ugly week, a zit week and to top it all off a bad hair week.  Needless to say, I’m not feeling at all pretty this week.  Kids are as honest as they come so if they think I’m pretty I’m set.