The importance of not being full of shit
This story takes place at my grandparents’ house at Christmas in the early 1980s. I was about 5 or 6 years old. My aunt was spending time with my cousin, letting her choose something from her collection of costume jewellery. I wandered over to look. I wasn’t particularly interested in what they were doing, but my aunt must have assumed that I was envious of the attention my cousin was getting. “Don’t worry,” said my aunt, “it’s boys’ turn next time.” It was at that point that I became excited. Boys' turn! Oh man, surely that was something to look forward to! And so I waited patiently for weeks, months - and then years - but boys' turn never came. I didn't say anything because I thought my aunt was as good as her word. But she wasn't, and I lost respect for her. I get that people have a lot going on in their lives and maybe forget things, but she made me feel that I wasn't important to her. What's the moral of this story? YOU might forget the promises you