Family Matters - My Buppy Cousin

I've got a cousin (yes another one) who is an ivy league grad (both undergrad and her masters).  She's a member of a pretty well known African American sorority known for the paper bag rule and high pitched noises.  And she's married to a man who is a grad of a well known Historically Black College for males.  Now, don't take her education to mean that she's not trifling.  She has two little girls who I love very dearly in part because they remind me of Hautechick and myself as children.  But sometimes I worry about those girls.

The oldest is a little bit of a snob and reverse racist.  She told a the one white girl in her ballet class that she couldn't play with her and her friends because she wasn't a minority.  Yeah, my 7 -at the time- year old cousin used the word minority.  When Hautey was a wee one, she told a little girl at the playground to tell her mother to wash her coat.  I think Mommy said Hautey was 4.  The youngest is a mini Trouble if evah there was!  She's had the "are you out of your damn mind?!" look down pact at 4 and isn't afraid to use it on one and all.  She also remind me of myself because her best friend is this adorable little white boy with red hair.  (do I need to remind you of my Bubba?)  And when her mother expressed concern at their relationship (you twit, the damn kids are in the first grade!) she told IvyLeague, "who are you to tell me who I can love?"

There are a couple of reasons that I worry about them.  First and foremost is that their mother sends them out of the house looking all kinds of wrong.  Ok, I understand that you never learned to do hair (my cornrows look like shit, but I can at least manage some two strand twist or a neat ponytail) but you make enough to have some one else do their hair.  And that means more than once a month.  And if you have a full set of Louis Vuitton luggage, why is it that you buy all of their clothes from Conway?  If you don't have Conway where you live, lets just says its cheap.  Polyester and rayon reign supreme and the construction is not what you would call study.  I used to buy toiletries from the one Downtown Brooklyn, but stopped after I saw a rat in there.  That was at least 5 or more years ago, but I think you all know how I feel about rats.  

Mommy used to help her out with the girls when their nanny quit, but IvyLeague insulted Mommy so that was the end of that.  Once she picked Eldest up from school and dropped her off at dance class.  When they get to the dance school, Mommy is helping Eldest get ready and she notices that she didn't eat her sandwich.  No wonder, it was Olive Loaf on black bread or some shit like that.  Eldest is 9, not 90.  So Mommy throws out the sandwich, their little secret, and goes to get Eldest something to eat.  She comes back with a turkey sandwich and finds Eldest is ready for class.  Leotard and tights full of holes.  Being the competent mother that she is, Mommy is embarrassed as hell.  She ask IvyLeague about it and she's all "Oh Eldest is an artist, she can't be concerned with perfect tights."  Yeah but you're her mom, shouldn't you be concerned with that shit?!

End Note - why the hell can't I ever remember that embarrassed has two r's?!?!?