But this is about my adorable nephew and not the rootin' tootin' good time I blogged about yesterday so I will blame my bruise on the fun I had with my nephew because 1) it's more socially acceptable to bruise oneself while playing with small children than being a drunken woo-girl at a country concert and 2) because I was not drunk at the concert (I was totally a woo-girl though) and therefore the bruise must have been a result of the fun I had playing with my awesome nephew.
I will call my nephew Chewie because although I'm posting the details of my personal life on the interwebz, my nephew deserves his privacy. There's nothing that irks me more than people who bomb the internet with embarassing stories and pictures of children who are too young to consent to their lives being documented in cyberspace. Ok, I lied, there's one thing that bothers me more and that's parents who post potty training play-by-plays on their Facebook status messages. This results in immediate unfriending from me. Still, I'd like to mention that I obtained permission from Chewie's parents before posting and promise to only post embarassing stories about me in which Chewie is an ancillary party and not vice versa.
So, my parents and I were babysitting my Chewie over the weekend while my brother and sister in law were away on a romantic post-Valentine's weekend in NYC (bow chica bow wow!). I lived in Boston and Israel for the first year and half of Chewie's life so I try to be the best aunt possible in order to make up for lost time. Also, just in case the whole dating and happily ever after thing doesn't work out, I'm trying to make a good impression now, before I turn into some crazy dog lady.
Chewie and I spent the weekend doing super fun things, like putting his new Star Wars underwear on our heads (hence the nickname Chewie).