Brothers and Nieces

Family Friday

Guest post by Donna A. Lewis, a doting aunt and number one favorite babysitter 

One day, when my niece M was three years old, we walked to the neighborhood playground together for some quality time. At that point in her development, M was obsessed with families. She understood mommies, daddies and sisters. Although there were many examples of brothers in her world, she didn't really get the concept. She could say that her daddy was my brother, but she clearly didn't understood what that meant.

Sitting on a bouncy playground apparatus, working hard to balance my weight against that of a three year old, I managed the barrage of questions that flew at me far faster than I could possibly answer.

"Are you Addie's mommy?"

I said yes, acknowledging that I was, indeed, mother to a dog.

"Are you Boo's mommy?"

I confirmed that I was also the mother to a cat.

I vaguely remember explaining that Addie had a dog mommy when she was born and that Boo had a cat mommy but that I was the mommy who took care of them everyday. I vaguely remember M changing the subject to something more simple.

"Do you have children?"

It's a good thing that M was only three and very adorable. The spunky side of me was dying to say something smarmy like "have you ever seen any children at my house?"

These days M is seven and quite adept at responding to sarcasm. These days I could easily deliver an obnoxious answer like that and M would go with the flow of the tease.

But at three years old, M really just needed to know if I was the mommy of children. We were at the playground where anything in the world was possible. Maybe I had children I just hadn't introduced to her yet.

I pretended to explain that I didn't have any children yet and fervently hoped that a bird would fall from the sky and provide a distraction.

No birds fell and of course M wanted to know why I didn't have any children. I was really too tired to explain the intersection of feminism, commitment, independence and biology. I uttered what would become the first of many lazy lies that M would pounce upon and torture until they somehow made sense.

"I can't have children, M. I'm not married."

I won't say that I had never before lied to M. I had and I still do. I lie all the time and justify every untruth as benefiting either her health or safety. I lie about food and television and whether I could find a particular video on YouTube if I really wanted to. I lie about the time and I lie about how long it will take to do something I really just don't want to do.

But to lie about the absence of children is an utterance I will one day, no doubt, have to explain to M. Why don't I just let it go, you ask? Because that lazy little lie transformed itself into a funny story that M likes to hear over and over again. It's now the story of the day that three-year old M offered her daddy's hand to me in marriage. Now M likes to hear the story, thrilled at how adorable she must have been back then.

One day, of course, M will understand that sisters and brothers don't get married for legal, religious, moral, ethical, medical and historical reasons. What I'm curious to know, though, is how much M will understand about women and men and choices. I'm particularly excited to see which of the many factors in her life will end up influencing the paths she chooses.

It may very well be that this little girl who hates pink and loves Star Wars will grow up into a sophisticated and emotionally intelligent woman who is better equipped to explain life to her future nieces. And yes, it may be that lazy little lies will still be the easiest way to enjoy the playground in the future of our dreams.

Donna A. Lewis is a lawyer, cartoonist and aunt to five bright and lovable girls, who are totally different creatures when their parents aren't around.

Comments

[Karen]

Donna, I hope you will keep posting. I love reading your thoughts from the aunting side of the fence!

[Donna Lewis]

Thanks, Karen! I love writing about the nieces!!