Aunt Olivia

One of my favorite aunts is my Aunt Olivia.  She's my dad's little sister.  She's the one that broke my dad's front tooth with a broom handle (after he purposefully got a comb so stuck in her hair that it had to be cut).  They love each other a lot and to my knowledge have stopped torturing each other.  Aunt Olivia is kind and loving and generous to us and always has been.

I am happy that my children have an Aunt Olivia too.

Because she's something else.

My children are very lucky in their wonderful aunts.  They are all good and kind.  (But this post is about Olivia.)

Olivia and Edgar came to visit and to see The Importance of Being Earnest.  It was a whirlwind trip because Olivia didn't want to be gone from her children for too long.  I was grateful to get what we could from them.  Olivia chatted with our kids and showed interest in their lives and complimented them and did all the aunt things you could want.

I loved sitting next to her at the play.  I feel supremely happy next to my sisters.  (And when I walk next to them I feel a little short.)

My kids call Olivia "ciocia" which is aunt in Polish.  (My kids don't speak Polish but Olivia does so maybe that makes sense?)

My kids love Ciocia--and can you blame them?

I think she is adorable.  Her smile is like an antidote for every ill in the world.

After the play Adam was still at the school with Braeden and Emma, helping to strike the set, Mark had been sent to bed and Edgar--the patient driver of long distance--had also gone to bed.  Olivia and I lounged around chatting in an exhausted state.  We started talking about mothers vs. aunts and I reminded her that before she had children she was an instigator among my toddler children.  She'd get them riled up and they would all get in trouble.  She's that sort of aunt.  She had a dress up box for them when she was still in college.

Olivia lamented that she used to be a much better aunt before she got so busy with her five children.

I had to agree. 

I mean driving 800 miles to see your nephew in a high school play is sort of the epitome of a lame aunt, right?