They grow up so fast.
Dear Uncle Cory,
Get your doodoo together! I mean, you're like 33 or something (that's like a hundred and fifty in baby years). Seriously, Uncle Cory, the kids on the playground are starting to ask questions. I got enough trouble already with Mom putting me in these K-Mart diapers when all the other kids are crawling around in their Huggies. Now every time I show off my new Pop up book with four finger puppets (Sorry, Emily ate the fifth, she offered but I really don’t want it back now) from my single uncle living in a New York City apartment with a balding guy and a giant jar of pickles I always have to say, "but he likes girls!" Take care of business soon or I'm coming out there with a puppy and a shirt that says "He's my Uncle" and finding you a lady who looks like she'll buy me some good Christmas presents!!
Seriously Concerned,
Your Niece (Sorry, I haven't learned to spell my name yet.)
P.S. How do you like the Harry Potter glasses? Tre chic, no?
No comments:
Post a Comment