Two weekends ago, when I sat between Claire and Noah on the long drive to Alamosa, I had the following conversation with my darling nephew:
Me: "Noah, aren't I just the most beautiful girl in the whole world?"
SIDE NOTE: I realize I had just set myself up. I know that this conversation could go any direction but I had entertained him for the past two hours and I was feeling pretty hopeful. My mistake.
Noah: "No. Claire is."
Claire: "OH Noah! That is so sweet! Thank you so much." What?! Claire? I am the one who has fed you a beef taco for the last 20 minutes. That has to count for something! And I am pretty sure I have cheese in my hair.
Noah: "You're welcome."
Me: "Okay, who is second?" Fingers crossed...
Noah: "Gram. Gram is second."
My Mom: "Oh, why thank you, sweet boy."
Me: "So...does that make me third?" I realize I sound desperate.
Noah: "Nope, you're fifth. Joseph's wife is third." My stinking brother starts to chuckle.
Me: "As in Mary? Jesus' mother?"
Noah: "Yes. Mary is third." Wow. I didn't even know he knew what she looked like. Shoot, she must have had it going on.
Me: "Okay, that's cool." I mean, how can you compete with that?
Noah: "And my mom is fourth."
Me: "Well that's good. You're mom is pretty. So then I am fifth, huh?"
Noah: "Yes, you are fifth."
Me: Why, thank you Noah! I am happy to be fifth."
Noah: "Why? Why are you happy? Fifth is the worst."
And with that, I gave him another beef taco. And I made a mental note to not base my self-esteem on the opinions of a six year old.