We are now careening towards Christmas at break-neck speed, which means one of several things.
On Boxing Day my nephew, Sam, will morph into an eight-year-old.
I still vividly remember the day that my sister told me that she was expecting. I was stood in the kitchen of the house I was sharing with friends at Staffordshire University when, during a routine catch-up call, I found out I was going to be someone’s auntie.
It was an overwhelming feeling of happiness, tinged with fear.
What if the baby doesn’t like me?
Does this mean I’ll now be someone’s secondary role model?
What kind of auntie will I be? The cool, fun, Monica Geller type? Or a strict, no-nonsense, Ms. Trunchbull?
I had no reason to be worried. From the first moment he squidged onto the planet, Sam became one of my all-time favourite humans – and I’m told the feeling is mutual.
It was an exciting time for the immediate fam which had, up until that point, been predominantly female (except for a few cousins).
Here are some of my favourite things about have a boy-child in the fold:
- I don’t have to learn how to plait hair.
- Buying clothes is a piece of piss.
- You get to play with all those toys you’ve always secretly wanted to play with but never had a good enough excuse to buy, such as toy guns, cars, superhero action figures, and slime.
And now to the pearls of wisdom that will forever accompany any Sam post…
After mishearing part of a conversation…
When asked what he thought about the meal I’d just cooked…
After being told to do his nightly ablutions…
For no reason whatsoever…
After being bought two ‘Superzings’ by his mum, and being excited because it was a ‘rare one’, he then proceeded to open the second…