being a monkey's uncle

In the beginning of November, I became an uncle for the first time. For those who care for such statistics, my niece weighed 3.3 kg (7 lb, 5 oz) and measured 49 cm (19 1/4") at the time of her birth.


It's strange, this uncle business. You see, before the birth of my niece, my personal universe was an infant-free universe. My siblings are close in age to me, so there are no childhood memories of such paraphernalia as cribs or child safety seats. None of my close friends have any children. I've never dated any one who has had kids. So when, for instance, one of my former roommates would try to explain to me the benefits of hand-made wooden toys versus mass-produced plastic toys for two-year olds, I'd listen politely. But did I truly care? I'd tell myself, "It's not like you actually know any two-year olds. Since when are you ever going to go toy shopping?" When I'd hear new parents talking about things like establishing sleeping schedules for their newborn, it sounded as irrelevant to my life as, say, keeping spiders off a cot in Afghanistan.

Boy, do things change! I've since had a cousin deploy to Afghanistan. (The subject of arachnids never came up in our conversations.) And now, there's a mewling newborn in my life. It is a whole new universe for me. Who knew there is a right way and a wrong way to hold a newborn? Who knew there is a method to change a baby's diaper or to put on a "onesie"? (Even the word "onesie" is new to me.) For now at least, this bachelor is actually enjoying being an uncle. The only thing I'm afraid of? Choosing a Christmas gift for my new niece. If only I could remember the rest of my ex-roommate's advice about children's toys...