understandably rebelious?

When we were much younger we hated to attend marriages. We hardly knew any one. we only met irritating aunts and uncles we didn’t know. The only things they did was pull our cheeks and ask us “audhkhe khe?” (recognize me?). no pea brain. I am 10 years old. I met you once in bad light conditions and then on you have grown balder, fatter and older. I would only remember you if you had an annoying habit like plucking you nose hair, belching after food, and acting shy at the lunch table before going on to gulp 4 rasgullas. Else why would I know you? If I knew of you, I would have answer to the next question “kaun chu, hun?” (Who am I?). Either you are an insignificant grain of my complex adolescence or call you by the quirk of name that follows your habit – uncle burpo, or farto or whatever we remember you by. Inevitably the answer we would shyly mutter – ‘I don’t know; who (on hell) are you uncle?’ acting almost apologetically angelical. It was easier to avoid this marriage mess. Mom you go. Why should I come? I don’t know the bride or the groom or anyone in between. The tweens were an irrationally rebellious age profile.
On Sunday we were to go for a colleague’s marriage. On Saturday Jispa wanted to stay over at her cousin’s place. I told her about the marriage we have to go for. Her repartee was instant “I don’t want to come. Its so boring. I don’t know any one. Why do you have to go for a silly marriage?” I didn’t know that the irrationally rebellious age started this early these days.
Ok fair. I remember my childhood. You can stay with your cousins and enjoy. We are going. Bye.