"Neice-o-tism" Alert

It's my niece Megan's 7th birthday. We've always had a special relationship, our own thing.
(No that's not a dunce hat.)
(But that is my Mom looking on in a helplessly amused fashion.)

When Megan was born I was full of apprehension. The holes in my life have never been baby shaped, so I was worried what this new world would mean for my sister. It seemed like a huge, terrifying, irreversible step, one I'd never in a million years take. But when I met her, my little baby niece, we had this immediate eye contact thing, and I'd say to her, "I already know you don't I?" I felt very attuned to her, the frustration she felt being trapped in a rubbery unreliable body that often betrayed her in humiliating ways. I felt she couldn't wait to take command of her self, of her life.

See, I'm not a baby person, or a toddler person. The whole pants wetting, crying thing -- not into it. Feces? Gross. Boogers? Not a fan. I am much more of a snotty teenager whisperer than a baby whisperer. (Give me your sardonic, your bitter, your smart alec huddled masses yearning to be free. What the heck, throw in the retched refuse too.) Kids don't really seem like sentient beings to me until they can at least talk. (Mom's of the world -- don't bother refuting this. It's just my take -- relax.) Anyway, I was anxious to interact with her when she learned to walk and talk to find out who this person really was.

I went to visit and we were both happy to see each other, maybe a little nervous too. Her mom gave us a few minutes alone and I said, "Ok, I'm going to take your picture. You can do anything you want and I'll take it." She ran straight over to this statue of a woman on this shelf and picked it up and raised it over her head like the tour de france trophy-- completely victorious. I later found out she'd been ordered to NEVER touch it. Right away I knew -- this kid would be my protege.


She's always had a fierce independent streak, constantly fighting to claim her very own space in the world where she can stand as her own person, apart, indomitable. Sometimes Katie gives me a sidelong glance and says, "Thanks," claiming she somehow got this from me, like I transmitted my Svengali-like rebel vibes right into her womb. Part of me likes this ridiculous notion and would like to believe it.

For now her Mom takes great pains to hover protectively nearby, while allowing this part of her to take root. Kudos to my sister for seeing this isn't a problem, something to crush or smother.

Megan has always wanted to be taken seriously. This has sometimes involved hats.

Like her mother, she's always been a tree hugger. In Texas that constitutes being an extremist radical (Good lord, she even recycles-- what next?!), earning them bonus karma points. (and sue points)

When she came to visit us in our new location in the secret woods this face happened. It has that effect on lot's of people.

She's always had a special relationship with her uncle Dan, sometimes overcome by the same feral "love attacks" that used to possess my sister when she was little.

Whenever he's home she can be found somewhere close by, orbiting.

Yes-- She can even lead him around by his little finger. He'd follow her almost anywhere and she's totally in love with him. I like to think it's because he radiates goodness (all my friends are in unanimous agreement that he beams some kind of good guy vibe out of his eyes), and is self-possessed enough to act fearlessly goofy (something little kids appreciate). He truly doesn't give a crap about what people think.

Yeah, they're big pals.

She's always been into art too. Something I've naturally encouraged.

She's never seemed plagued with that weird neurotic humility about it though. I remember when I was little it was a little embarrassing, almost shameful. Of course I wanted people to approve of me, to think I was good at art, but not to notice too much, like there was something bad about being in the spotlight-- something pushy and conceited and decidedly un-midwestern.

Thankfully, she's able to revel in it. She is a good artist, and she loves it, and I think loves that about herself. How wonderful. Look how happy and proud. Freaking awesome!

So there you have it. Happy Birthday Megan. We love you a ton. I put "Seven Nation Army" by The white Stripes at the top of the playlist again since it was her favorite song this summer when they visited. She'd point and sneer and snarl and strut, singing along to this defiant almost martial tune. This little force of nature is going to be something else as she gets older, and I couldn't be more thrilled.