Shiny and new.

Tomorrow is my niece's (neee-ses. Hah.) tenth birthday. I remember this birthday surprisingly well. I remember, particularly, lying across the doorway to the downstairs with my legs propped up against the side of the doorway, with my arms folded beneath my head, talking to my aunt on the eve of my birthday. I remember telling her that this was a big birthday and everything would be different now, because I would be such a grown-up, portentous little shit that I was (am?).

I wonder if it's the same for my niece right now. I wonder if she's in bed, thinking that tomorrow her whole world is different because she is a pre-teen now. If she's dreaming dreams of boys and bras and makeup and cell-phones and whatever else those young whippersnappers mark as a sign of maturity. Everything's laid out before her, glittering, new, sparkling and exciting beyond all belief.

Tomorrow I will call her and we will discuss what she wants as a birthday present (since her official birthday party is this coming weekend and I already got her a card that makes dolphin noises when flipped open, so that totally counts) and I will go off and get her something completely different since what she usually requests involves several Toys R Us's and asking salespeople "Where can I find this?" and said salespeople looking at me blankly and saying "We don't carry that" and off I go to another toy store.

I wonder if her mother would murderize me if I got her makeup and a padded bra.

Probably.

It's not my fault I know what ten-year old girls' priorities are.

But my niece is a good kid for all that, and she loves her aunt and so I will try my damndest to make her tenth birthday magical and special and just the beginning of the amazing life she's going to have.

And on her thirtieth I will be there with the liquor of her choice.