Dr Carlie is in

There's nothing like a funny family member to make me want to blog again. This latest story has a semi-new character, Carlie, the 2-year-old daughter of my younger sister, Mia. I sort of introduced her to you, my millions of readers, in this post from 2 years ago.

Me and Carlie, having none of this selfie nonsense

Anyway, little Carbaroni is in town for a while so we are all overjoyed. Carlie has grown up (well, sort of) to be an adorable girl who just won't stop talking until she gives in to sleep. Which can be good or bad, as I've learned from all my conversations with Carlie's cousins, Juancho and Martina, when they were younger. (I can link dozens of posts, but I chose just that one because it's past my bedtime. Please feel free to search my old entries from a time when I blogged regularly and furiously, and I was probably funnier. And thinner. *Sob*)

Today, I had to watch Carlie for a bit because her mommy was taking a much-needed nap. I was getting a bit sleepy myself so I had to end our catching and throwing practice (we used a tiny, fluffy dinosaur as our ball, but with my energy level, it felt like an oversized bowling ball ... on fire). We sat on the couch instead and she started to pretend to be a doctor examining me.

Oh no.

Because I've had countless experiences with too-honest kids and their evaluations of my body parts, I braced myself for the inevitable. After all, just a few months ago, a chatty and most entertaining 4-year-old girl told me – after a few minutes of careful observation and pinching – that my arms were, decidedly, 'too big'. She wasn't wrong.

Back to my niece.

Carlie: I look at your leg. 

Me: OK. It's big, right? 

Carlie: No, small.

(YES! Small victory! Literally!)

Carlie: The other one. 

Me: This leg is big? 

Carlie: No, small.

(WHOOHOOO!)

Carlie: I look at your tummy. 

Me (in mortal fear): OK. It's soft? 

Carlie: No, it's beautiful.

AWWWWWWW. Sniff. Thanks, Car.

Not all my blog stories have a weird ending, after all. 

(And I'll stop there before I tell you about the real ending of the night: her mini-tantrum during my futile attempt at brushing her teeth. When dealing with small children, just like the rest of life, you really can't win 'em all.)