Luke

Luke is my nephew. He is 7 months old, and he is completely adorable. The cutest baby I know. Chunky cheeks, completely thrilled with the world, and thinks his aunt is the coolest. I mention this because I will see him this weekend when he comes for a short visit to my parents' house, and I cannot wait. He's growing so fast that I can't keep up, and it's sick how much of his life I am missing out on. Apparently, he loves squash, and hates green beans. He thinks that my sister's cell phone is the best toy ever because there are voices on the other end that talk to him (the evidence is clear...when I talk to him on it, I hear "beep, beep, beep" as he pushes the buttons, trying to figure out how it works). He is popping up teeth like a little tooth garden. And he loves to say consonants over and over and over again. :) This is the stuff of life, stuff that I am not around for.

The interesting thing is that I am not a "kid person". I'm not a big fan of children. I think that their inability to reason, empathize and care about anyone other than themselves is selfish and unacceptable. Plus, nothing ticks me off faster than a kid throwing a temper tantrum in the middle of any public place. I always have the overwhelming desire to stomp up to their parents and say, "Really? REALLY? You wanted THIS???? What kind of a parent ARE you that your kid is throwing a fit in the MIDDLE OF TARGET?????" I know, I'm harsh. It's true, I am. And one day, I may very well change my mind, and this will all come back to haunt me as my child throws a hissy fit in middle of Target. But as for now, and the foreseeable future, I avoid children like the plague, unless they're particularly adorable. Then, my thaw melts considerably, and I will give them maybe 23 seconds of my time before I freeze up again. On the flight to Cancun, for the entire flight, I was next to a 13 month old. Of course, I told myself. I, of all people, would end up next to the 13 month old on a flight. I avoided him successfully for the first part of the flight, burying my head in my Newsweek and reading intently about the world AIDS crisis (of which I am very interested, and so it was easy to forget the munchkin). And then he decided that my blanket, and my Newsweek, and my jeans, all looked very interesting to him. So he started to tug at them. The kid was the size of a 2 year old and made a serious case for the epidemic of childhood obesity starting in infancy. But when I looked down on him, and he stared up at me with huge blue eyes and beamed, then giggled, like he knew that I wouldn't be able to not smile back, I smiled back. And then, somehow, I ended up watching him and giggling with him while his grandmother went to the bathroom. And as I left the plane, resolute once more in my anti-child opinion, glad I didn't have to be the one lugging around a child seat, stroller and bags full of toys in a tropical destination, I looked back and saw that he had caught the eye of another girl, making her laugh by giggling at her. It's like they know that we're out to avoid them, so they have to be cute so we pay attention. I was relieved to see, on the return trip, that I was next to honeymooners who refused to talk to me, lest I interrupt their alternate reality of a perfect world. No children in sight. Sigh of relief.

So it is with this knowledge that I am further amazed by my adoration and complete joy in the presence of my nephew. I reach for him the moment that I see him, and am reluctant to let him go. He loves watching me and giggles as I talk, babbles away in response at me, and we have the funniest conversations. I make him almost hysterical with joy when he's bouncing around in his little Johnny-Jump-up from the door frame, as I bounce along on the floor with him. And when he beams at me, it's like he's saying, "Auntie Tee-tee, you're the best." And I can't wait until he actually says that. Cuz he will. Cuz I am. But only for him, and his future brothers and sisters. Everyone else, well, tough luck. There's only one Auntie Tee-tee.