Waiting For Brunch

This weekend my 14-year-old niece who is 1,000 times cooler than I could ever dream of being and who will probably never again go anywhere in public with her haggard and embarrassing uncle came to stay with me.

I demand this from her from time to time because it makes me feel like I have friends. I am basically this:

The main thing I learn every single time any of my seven nieces or nephews hang out with me is how bad I am at knowing what children like to do. That crap doesn't come naturally. You have to learn it. I assume it is learned through years of legal responsibilities being hoisted upon you, ones that intersect with an unrelenting desire to stop the sounds of "I'M BORED."

My friend Annie told me earlier today that she longs for the days when people had children so they could be put to work and help out at the farm. And she said it in a reminiscing voice like she was alive back then. Now "we have children that we are expected to perpetually entertain."

The point is, my niece Kaylee was very unhelpful with all the farm chores this weekend. And by morning, I was already convinced she was texting her parents, begging them to come get her.

So we went to brunch. I was certain this was an activity that crosses all generations. Who doesn't love gossiping about reality TV over eggs?

But when we got to the brunch place, we found out there was a 25-minute wait. This was in large part because we were waiting eleventy and a half hours for Skylar to arise from his hibernation and join us and so we were unable to catch the worm, so to speak.

Understanding that we had 25 minutes in which I needed to entertain the niece, I did something that I often do: I explained an idea that I had and then directed Skylar to execute it without any of my help.

He was obliging and expanded on the creativity, greatly.

So, yeah. That's what I did last weekend.

~It Just Gets Stranger