Conversations with a Nine (NINE!) Year Old

My sister’s triplets turn nine-years-old today, which I’m in denial about because that means I’m nine years older than when they were born. Which is totally unreal. So I’m just going to pretend it’s not happening.

I spent most of my Saturday hanging out with my niece, who at the ripe old age of nine has learned how to properly roll her eyes. It’s glorious. And just in case you thought sarcasm skipped a generation, I recorded some of our conversations to somehow incorporate into her wedding video or graduation toast when she’s older. Because I’m her favorite aunt, and favorite aunt’s live to embarrass their kin.

Her: My mom said I couldn’t paint polka dots on my wall.
Me: Wow, sucks for you.
Her: Yeah, so I gave her a new nickname, “Spirit Crusher.”
The Mom: What?
Her: Spirit Crusher!!!!

Her: This scary guy walked in on a kid from our school in the bathroom. It was gross.
Me: Some people are so weird.
Her: You said I was weird.
Me: Well, you’re a good weird.
Her: What’s the difference?
Me: You’re weird, but I still like you.
Her: Oh. You’re weird too.
Me: Thanks.

Her: Why do you call yourself a nerd?
Me: Remember what I said about being weird?
Her: Yeah?
Me: Well, I like being a nerd. I’m a good nerd.
Lucy: Mama, you a NEEERRRDDD!
Her: {rolls eyes and looks at me}
Me: Um, yeah, well. Whatever.

Me: How do you like my new haircut?
Her: You look, um, different.
Me: Good different, or bad different?
Her: {Pauses, thinking} Good different.
Me: Nice save.
Her: Thank you.

You may be wondering why I have no conversations with the boys? Well, because they spent most of the day begging me for quarters to play the video games at the arcade and the other half playing football/kickball/baseball/dodge-ball/wrestling/testosternone-scares-me games with my husband. At one point my brother-in-law asked if they could have Trent over for a playdate once a week. Which further solidifies my argument that Trent is actually a nine-year-old.