This has nothing to do with cooking. There is no bonus recipe this week, just a peek into my family Christmas, and how my brother would have given anything had someone been recording this moment in time…here goes.
My favorite little boy and my favorite little girl call me Aunt Nen. Cute, right? It sounds more like, “An Nen” if you were to speak it. This is my name now. That’s how it is when kids come along. My brother turned into Daddy, my parents, Grandma and Papa, and me, Aunt Nen. The kids got me a lovely Christmas gift this year, and written on the tag? Yup, “Aunt Nen.”
When Nolan gets in that super ornery mood of his, he will say something like, “Oh yea? Aunt JJJEN!!” Punctuating that J like nobody’s business. Of course that puts Aunt Nen in attack mode, chasing him and capturing him and tickling the snot out of him, all while he laughs from his belly and screams, “I’m kidding! I’m kidding — Aunt NEN!!”
What in the world does this have to do with Greek yogurt, you may ask? Hold on. I’m getting there.
This chasing-capturing-tickling routine happens pretty often. He’s 5, so it happens more often than not. I can’t get a hug from that child anymore, so this is the equivalent. Who am I kidding — I love it.

Brilliant.
Aunt Nen can’t scoop her up and tickle her — she has food in her mouth (that she shows me. Ew). Instead, I sit down, grab her and pull her onto my lap and say quietly in her ear that she “better swallow that yogurt right now so I can tickle you!” She laughs and negatively shakes her head as if to say, “I win, Aunt Nen.”

Projectile gween gogert sprays in a 10-foot radius.
I’m paralyzed; eyes closed, pursed lips, breath held, arms out and just dreading the view once I open my eyes. All I hear is laughter from the kids AND the rest of the adults/jerks in the room, as I can feel yogurt in my hair and dripping from my face.
They’re lucky I love them so much.
Go make something awesome,
Aunt Nen














