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The worst relative you ever had to deal with, like your great-great-great-great-great-great-grandparent or your great-great-great-great-great-great-grandchild. They’re so far back, they might as well be a ghost.
My N1C8R sent me a letter from 1923. It was about how they didn’t like potatoes.
My N1C8R is my great-great-great-great-great-great-grandchild. She’s 2 years old and already gives me attitude.
My N1C8R showed up at my wedding. They wore a suit from the 1800s and called me 'Sir.'