{On Being an Aunt}

I love being an Aunt.  Seriously, love it.  I love living less than 5 minutes from my nephew.  His parents aren’t that bad either. wink. wink.
I drove to the hospital at 5 am when they called to tell me that baby boy was on his way.  Needless to say, I waited a long time.  And I lived one minute from the hospital.  I was egaer.  Eager Beaver. 
I have held that boy, rocked that boy, cried when that boy made coughing noises that sounded like he was choking, checked to make sure he was breathing while he slept.  I have lauged at that boy, been kissed by that boy, been peed on by that boy, and snuggled that boy as he slept in my arms.  I love being an Aunt. The being peed on, not so much.
My hubby loves being an Uncle.  Maybe too much.  He says Luke is “seriously the cutest kid ever”.  Um, please say that about our children someday?  I mean, the bar is pretty high with Luke being the cutuest baby in the world and the first grandkid.  High expectations. Yikes.
So, on Easter, we tossed a few plastic eggs onto the front lawn.  He was instantly obsessed with them.  Almost as obsessed as we are with him.  Truly, we don’t need T.V., games, or conversation.  Just Luke.  We watch him.  Constantly.  He loves it.  We will see how he likes sharing the spotlight someday.  

{Are you an Aunt?  What is your favorite part?}


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