I have just realized that some things I want to tell you aren’t really for you. They are for girls. I have no girls, and your father says I’m never going to get any because WITHERS MEN MAKE MORE WITHERS MEN.
Except your Uncle Rodney. He and your Aunt Cynthia made Bailey. She’s younger, but she is the boss of you. She yells at you and you offer her whatever you have in your hand at the time.
The discovery of KeyAnn is the stuff of legends. Or of really peculiar TV movies. My Uncle Kenny died before he told us about his DAUGHTER. She searched for us for YEARS never knowing that she probably passed her aunt’s house every time she went to the mall. Finally, she found me, a picture of me, on the Internet.
She knew me by my eyes. She has a daughter - KeyAnn. She’s far too old to find you interesting. She’s stunning and graceful like your great-grandmother.
I never know how to describe Tynesha. Co-worker? Friend? Technically, she’s my partner, since creatives work in teams, but that usually just makes non-advertising people think that I am a lesbian. But she is, on a daily basis, the closest thing I have to a sister.
Her role with you is clear. She is the Minister of Education and Bowling. It says so right in my will. I gave her this title because she is doing such a great job with her son. If I die, she is going to bring you an enormous dose of me, she knows what I want for myself, and what I want for you.
She, too, has a daughter, Zaria. I was one of the first to see her and marvel at her. And when I speak, I hope she hears me bringing an enormous dose of her mother as well.
Some posts, like my designer purses and shoes, are going to be things I expect are best left for girls. And rather than start YET ANOTHER blog, I’m putting my nagging for them, alongside my nagging for you.
So I’m going to take breaks from bossing you around to bossing them around. I hope it feels like the eye of Sauron has passed over you to the east …