I'm officially an aunt. Ha! What an extraordinary feeling.
I confess that I was tad apprehensive meeting you, or, more correctly, holding you for the first time.
You must have sensed this as your mother handed you over to me in that tiny hospital room with the ugly yellow curtains, because you opened your color-undecided eyes just long enough to look up at me and give me the best Winston Churchill impression I've ever seen.
But really, do try and understand. Prior to you, my experience with children and infants could be summarized in a single word: None. Having always favored interaction with the more hairy or feathery or scaly varieties of baby than my own kind, it seems. So bear with me when you see the terror in my eyes when I am left alone with you. Because you make so many different faces and weird noises that I'm never sure if you're fine or in some mortal peril or you're just messing with me. I have a feeling it's the latter. Either way, to get you to stop and go back to sleep (sleep I can understand) I exhaust my baby calming skills; rocking and holding. Feeding shall now be added to the list, for you, being a boy, food fixes everything. I learned this yesterday while speeding along the highway.
You were really working up a squall in the backseat -- the loudest I've ever heard you, you're such a quiet baby -- and there were 15 more miles till home. Sacrifices had to be made. Your mom was driving so naturally it was me who did the sacrificing by climbing over my seat to get in the back -- not easy to do in a cheap little sports car built for two and a half people. I got stuck -- twice -- between the top of the seat and the ceiling, all the while you are crying in my face for some sustenance and your mom is trying to avoid getting noticed by the highway patrol. Sitting in the backseat (specially designed with leg amputees in mind) its a mad mess to find your bottle amidst diaper bag straps, oversized purses, and horse tack. But when I do you look over the rim and wrinkle your forehead at me like it's an inside joke. As you fade back into sleep my arm starts to tingle from being twisted around to hold your soft little head up. I think I shall like being an aunt.
Welcome to the world, mi nipote dulce.