Peppermint Milano Cookies

This weekend I came to the realization that my purse is suited for a women with a 6 year old (almost 7).  

FYI…I do not have a 6 year old. 

I entertained my niece through a wedding ceremony with the contents of my purse.  One which I stocked for myself, not a 6 year old.

I haven’t a clue what that means about me, but I kept her occupied and out of trouble, which is something of a rarity, especially when I am around.  We ALWAYS get in trouble.  Or, I get her in trouble and then she points out that I had said it was OK, which is always true.  And then we both get in trouble.  Nothing like being 29 and being put in time out.  It happens.  Who pouts more, when in time out, is a toss up.

I let her jump on beds, because they are bouncy and what harm can a 6 year old do to a bed?  When she gets old enough to own her own bed she will be too tall to jump on a bed (stupid ceiling fan) or it won’t be nearly as much fun…so jump away!

I let her terrorize my cat.  Mainly, because I know that she can not fit under my bed and that Stan is quicker than she.  And that Stan has no front claws, so a scratched face probably won’t happen.  Also, I feel her pain.  Cats are not fans of children, but children are huge fans of cats.  When I was her age, I had squeezed a many cats to near death…from pure love.  So, yes, I will let her lay on her belly, with her feet sticking out from under my bed with a ribbon tied around a stick trying to get Stan out from under my bed.

I let her play on stairs.  They are carpeted and what is better than sitting on your butt and sliding down stairs?  Nothing.  That is what.

Pillow fights always seem like good ideas.   And really, is there such a thing as too much Sponge Bob?

And my purse is always up for grabs.  Saturday was no different.  I let her eat my SweetTarts.  And M & M’s.  I even offered her my last York Peppermint Patty.  Lip gloss and chapstick was found and applied.  Licked off.  Re-applied.  Pen and paper (OK, old receipts, but paper none the less) = tic tac toe.  My running watch…sure push the buttons.  I like buttons too.  My phone…sure text whoever and play Angry Birds – kids are crazy savvy with technology.  That random dollar floating around…sure, take it.  That roll of Rolaids…no, those aren’t more sweet tarts…For real.  And before we knew it…ceremony was over and we made it out without getting a lecture or a stern look from mom and dad or grandma and grandpa.  One of us is growing up.  I have a feeling it is her.

And when her parents aren’t looking, I offer her one more cookie.  Because she is seven and growing like a weed and who cares if it is 9pm?  It is Saturday and if you can’t eat cookies on a Saturday night, then what is the point?  A point, I am sure I will learn with my own children, but as an aunt…one more cookie it is.