The Badass Aunt

Iris

Iris skipped into the apartment happily her large backpack swaying violently on her little back.
"So where is my mom?" Iris asked spinning on her heel to face me and tilting her head questioningly.
Damn it. I should have known this question was coming.
I struggle to come up with an answer. "I don't know," I lie "she just asked me to get you from day care." Not completely a lie, so I guess I am one of those honest bitches now. Good job me.
"Oh?" She says sounding confused, "Ok!" She says cheerfully. She takes of her backpack and throws it in the corner dismissively, "So what are we going to do auntie?" She asks in a high pitch cheer. She plops down on an old couch and stares at me.
Oh hell no, "First of all, don't call me that," Iris scowls but I ignore her and pull out my phone, "and, I don't care what you do as long as you don't get yourself killed." I start to mindlessly scroll through Instagram feed while slowly walking to a chair to sit down.
"Maybe you are just a boring old aunt." Iris grumbles and crosses her arms sticking out her bottom lip.
"Mmmhm" I mumble still scrolling through my endless Instagram feed.

It is probably about twenty five minutes later and half way through my Instagram feed when I here little snapping noises behind me. To be honest I should have been expecting something, even in my zoned out state full of only  Beyoncé and oddly satisfying videos I had heard movement behind me, the little pitter-patter of bare feet clapping against the wood flooring, a closet opening, and other indiscernible noises aslo the fact that, the apparent, "little devil" hadn't really been "devilish" yet.
I put my phone down on the kitchen table and turn around as much as I can in my chair. Slowly I peer over the couch behind me into the living room where the sound originated.
In the middle of the living room lays little Iris. Her sort body laid out behind her on the floor, in front of her is a pile of an assortment of rainbow colored crayons all snapped in half, in her hands is another bunch of crayons about to meet their own slow painful death. I stop and just stare at her. Well I don't care what she does with her stupid crayons, Maddy obviously doesn't want them, crayons are shit, no wants them not even kids. I know when I was a little kid markers were all the rage, a stick of wax wasn't going to draw a good fucking flower. If Pacaso didn't use fucking crayons, then why should I?
I continue looking at her as she slowly bends her arms down watching through curious eyes as each crayon snaps in half revealing its colorful center.
Something within me, because it was definitely not me, pushes myself out of the wooden chair that I have been sitting on for thirty minutes and walks me around the couch to the living room where Iris sits.
I walk around her and sit down with my legs crossed. I look up for a moment at the couch I had peered over moments ago, "how the hell did I get here?" I ask myself accusingly as if some little voice in my head will speak up like, "It was me ma'am, I won't let it happen again"
I look back down at Iris who has now given me a small glance. She moves her arms over the pile of broken crayons and let's them all drop out of her hands and join the pile. She dusts of her hands over the pile as well, getting all the little bits of paper and crumbs of wax off her hands.
"So." I say blankly, "I give you permission to do what ever you want and you break crayons."
"My mom never told you I was normal, did she?" She laughs at herself for a quick second, "And, I also prefer, when I am bad, to not be allowed to be bad at the time, what can I say? If I am going to get in trouble I want more bang for my buck." She says things so seriously like they are just a fact.
I smile. "Your smart, you know."
"That's what the teachers say. Old people are terrible at whispering, did you know that? Any ways, they said I am, 'To smart for my own good,' and 'Strange.' Like, what does that even mean! Your strange!" She grumbles to her self, something about stupid people.
"The teachers talk about you?" I ask not sure where to start.
"Yeah, all the time, they talk about me like they know everything about me and they know exactly what I am going to do all the time, and how can they now all this stuff when all I know about them is how stupid they sound when the scream." She begins making high pitched squealing scream noises followed by her name in the same voice.
"And why would you know their screams so well?" I ask this even though I know the answer, I just want to hear it from her.
"Oh," she said she it like she is taking a walk down memory lane, "my monthly pranks. My favorite one was when my teachers thought I had finally grown out of pranks then they found lady bugs in the toilet bowl. Best. Scream. Ever." She laughs to her self reaching for the crayon box and grabbing another bunch of crayons.
"That's awesome, your probably the cool kid in class aren't you?" I ask playfully
"Actually no." Some where in me something melts, " I am the "weird" one. But what does wired even mean. All those assholes don't even know what a real insult is." This time she doesn't watch each crayon snap as she adds more pressure, instead she snaps the whole hand full with a tremendous amount of force and immediately drops them all in her pile and brushes off her hands.
She is reaching for another hand full of crayons when I get up, "Come on," I motion for her to follow me. She turns her head so she can see me and gives me a look like I am crazy.
I start moving towards the kitchen table and I grab my phone, turning it on to check the time:
5:45
Perfect.
I look behind me and see Iris standing there, hands at her side, a cute blank face.
"Come on" I say, that something that moved me to Iris just a few minutes ago is propelling me forward again. "I thought you said it wouldn't happen again!" I scold the imagery person in my head again.
"We're are we going?" Iris asks moving beside me.
"I don't know yet." I say honestly, "Somewhere."