When my 4-year-old twin nieces were at my house, they wanted to know who the girl in the photo was.
I told them that was my friend, who got married that day. I told the twins that my friend has a daughter their little sister's age.
That's neat, my favorite red-head told me in her cute mousy voice. But she had another question: Who is the other girl in the picture?
Um, kids, the other girl in the picture is me. It's your aunt, whom you've seen on a weekly basis for the past four years. I was at the hospital the day you were born. Birthdays? I've been there, every single time. I give you noseys multiple times a week.
No it not, the twins said. It not you. That another girl.
Uh, no. Did you have too much to drink at lunch? The girl in the picture is Aunt Monica.
But you have glasses, the twins told me.
In the middle of my living room, I took my glasses off. I had glasses 2 seconds ago, I told the twins, but now I don't.
Now do I look like the girl in the photo?
But the girl in the picture has long hair, they told me.
Yes. After that picture was taken I cut my hair.
Little cute red-head: No you didn't. You didn't cut your hair.
It was at that point that I admitted defeat, hung my head in shame, and changed the subject.
I remember when the twins were little tiny helpless baby burritos. And now they argue with me about whether a photo of me is actually me.
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