You can’t read. You’re two. Yes, you’re learning letters and even to say your vowels in French (thanks French Mimi) but you still can’t read. So, these letters to you are pointless until one day, when you’re much older, your parents see fit to let you read them. I suspect I won’t be able to keep these age appropriate until you’re a teenager. I might not even be able to keep them appropriate for anyone, but here goes.
Your sister was born two days ago and so I thought it was a good time to start this labour of love and narcissism. Love – because I do love you, even if you do produce snot, have sticky hands and scream about the most random things. Seriously. Do you think I appreciated being woken up at 5 fucking am, which translates into 3am to me because of weird daylight savings time stuff that goes on there? (There goes the appropriateness. Oh well, best to start as I intend to continue.). First of all, I was a guest. If you ever want guests in the future, you best stop with the shrieking. Secondly, your opportunity for drama was rather pathetic. It was because you thought your Mum’s dressing gown was ugly. Granted, it probably was. I didn’t see it, but taste does run through the French side of our family and your Mum doesn’t have any French in her…well, except for the bit of my brother that got her pregnant with your sister..and that’s only half French. Good idea to start biology lessons as soon as possible I reckon.
As this is my first letter, I’m going to keep my words of wisdom short and simple. You’re a big brother now. Your Mum and her boobs are no longer yours and you now have to make a decision. Are you going to be one of those heroic big brothers that protects his little sister with old fashioned chivalry and fearless brutality or are you going to be an annoying dick? You’re two. You’re nearly out of nappies. Start making smart choices kid.
Much love from your badass Auntie
You were just born. My brother has already indicated that you will be a ‘Daddy’s Girl’, which means you will be spoiled and probably forgiven for destroying your Mum’s vagina. Your brother definitely gave it a good go, but from what I understand, due to your superior and more advanced development (you are a girl, so remember that whatever anyone tells you, you will always be superior) you were the final wrecking ball. That, my dear niece, is a Miley Cyrus reference. Miley Cyrus will be old by the time you read this. She may still be famous. Wrecking Ball was one of her hit songs. I may be old. I may be badass, but currently, I like Miley Cyrus. She smokes weed, supports good causes, behaves like a slut in the best possible way and hangs out with great old musicians. That makes her viable badass material.
Enough of Miley and on to your name. I have to admit that you, well actually your parents, inspired the use of you and your brother’s initials instead of your names in these letters. Your brother’s name was not my favourite name but it’s grown on me. I didn’t like the name they chose for you at all (and please if you’re reading this when you’re an angst ridden teenager, do not get a complex and change your name radically unless you’ve already done so – which actually might be a good thing) and assured them I would be calling you CK in future. If you do decide to radically change your name, let me know. I’m sure I can help you to choose some good ones. It will be hard to find ones to shock your parents. That was easy when I was young, but yours are ‘millennials’, which makes them painfully ‘cool’. So, we’ll have to collaborate hard to shock them. It will be fun and we’ll bond. Can’t wait.
So, now it’s time for my words of wisdom for you little CK, fresh out of the uterus. Sleep. Sleep a lot. Be sickeningly cute. Don’t cry much. Create abnormally large poos. Oh and make sure that your expressions look like the family members most likely to buy you the best presents.
Much love from your badass Auntie
ps. Never forget that these two were my nephew and niece before you came along and because of you, their lives will never be the same. You better act like you love me as well as these two do when I visit or the only Christmas presents coming to your house will be pizzles. When you’re old enough, ask your Dad what those are.