Lil B

Every year, usually around the end of August, my niece Bubba invites me to come and spend a few days with her family. A cute family with two red-headed boys as bookends and one sassy brunette sister in the middle. Inevitably, I return home with an collection of stories to share by recounting the week of antics. The oldest will turn 8 in a few months, the youngest will turn 4 a month later. So, yes, there are plenty of stories to share. This one is about Lil B.

A point of clarification. While he is the oldest sibling in the family, Lil B gets his moniker because he is the second B in the extended family. His cousin, referred to as B arrived about 5 years prior so he is the OG B. To differentiate the two, the red-headed, younger B I’ll call Lil B.

Lil B is a creative soul. He is constantly using his Legos to build things. Things like cars and Beyblades (what? You don’t know what a Beyblade is? You obviously do not spend anytime with 7 year old boys. You can check out beyblade.com to get educated). He is also Bubba’s son so he naturally inherited a competitive streak. He invited me to build a robot out of Legos while he also built one. Then asked his dad which one was the better ‘bot.

In case you are wondering, he won.

The point is, he is always building things from paper airplanes to Lego robots. That’s just how his mind works.

“He is going to be an engineer,” I said and his mom proudly agreed.

One evening, he and I had some “special time.” Basically, he rode his bike and I walked. It was the end of August and hot so he told me how he couldn’t wait for winter. “Winter is my favorite time,” he said. “You can snuggle in a blanket, drink hot chocolate, and watch movies. It’s so cozy.”

I replied (in my typical anti-winter stance) that I preferred summer.

“Why?” He asked surprised. How was that even possible? Was implied.

I gave my usual answer, “I don’t like the cold or the dark or the cold.”

He thought I was crazy.

The next day his mom asked him how our special outing went.

“Aunt C hates Christmas,” he told her.

Wait, what? I don’t remember even discussing Christmas. I replayed the conversation in my head. Did I say I hated Christmas? No, I said I didn’t like winter. Christmas was not mentioned, was it? At this point, I’m not even sure what I said.

I take it back. The kid isn’t going to be an engineer. He’s going to be a politician.

Or a journalist.

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