Dear Gwen, December 2014
Dec. 16th, 2014 08:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jianantonicDear Gwenea Pig,
You are just one month old now and I barely know you, but I already love you so much. I haven't spent a lot of time with you, but I did meet you when you were just three days old. You greeted me with a massive spit-up all over my dress. It was a little gross, but I pushed past it. Grosser things were yet to come...
You haven't really started using your voice yet, but you make lots of little squeaky noises, just like a guinea pig. So I have started calling you Gwenea Pig, because I am oh-so clever, you know. I'm sure you'll stop making those little squeaks in just a few weeks or months, but I have a feeling I'll be calling you Gwenea Pig for the rest of your life. It could be worse. My mom still calls me Piddly Poo.
Speaking of which.
The last time I visited you, I was joking with your mom about things that newborns do. Honestly, you don't have a very large repertoire, and every newborn's best skill is defecation. I don't generally like the argument that a person "was asking for it," but it could be argued that my constant joking about how babies are known for projectile pooping at that opportune moment between diapers was indeed asking for the incident that followed... Your mom had you on the changing table, just getting a fresh diaper for a trip to the midwife. I was saying my goodbyes, AND THEN!
I do take the blame for this incident. I was practically willing it to happen. So I feel particularly bad that your mom took the brunt of the spray. I did my best to help clean up, and I changed your clothes while your mother changed hers. I don't have enough hands to dress a baby. I'm not sure how your parents do it without working in tandem. You fussed at me while I wrestled a new onesie over your head, but once we got you situated, all was right with the world again.
I know things like wiping your spit-up and changing your clothes don't seem terribly exciting, but for an auntie like me, every new thing I do for you is special. You've got amazing parents and I know they don't need me to do any of their work for them, but I really love to do it anyway. I love that I'm going to be a part of your life and upbringing. I hope you'll think I'm a cool aunt. I hope you won't take too much advantage of the fact that I'm a total softie for all my nieces and nephews. I'm excited to get to know you better, but I'm in no hurry for you to grow up any faster. I can't believe it's already been a month!
Love,
Aunt Meg
You are just one month old now and I barely know you, but I already love you so much. I haven't spent a lot of time with you, but I did meet you when you were just three days old. You greeted me with a massive spit-up all over my dress. It was a little gross, but I pushed past it. Grosser things were yet to come...
You haven't really started using your voice yet, but you make lots of little squeaky noises, just like a guinea pig. So I have started calling you Gwenea Pig, because I am oh-so clever, you know. I'm sure you'll stop making those little squeaks in just a few weeks or months, but I have a feeling I'll be calling you Gwenea Pig for the rest of your life. It could be worse. My mom still calls me Piddly Poo.
Speaking of which.
The last time I visited you, I was joking with your mom about things that newborns do. Honestly, you don't have a very large repertoire, and every newborn's best skill is defecation. I don't generally like the argument that a person "was asking for it," but it could be argued that my constant joking about how babies are known for projectile pooping at that opportune moment between diapers was indeed asking for the incident that followed... Your mom had you on the changing table, just getting a fresh diaper for a trip to the midwife. I was saying my goodbyes, AND THEN!
I do take the blame for this incident. I was practically willing it to happen. So I feel particularly bad that your mom took the brunt of the spray. I did my best to help clean up, and I changed your clothes while your mother changed hers. I don't have enough hands to dress a baby. I'm not sure how your parents do it without working in tandem. You fussed at me while I wrestled a new onesie over your head, but once we got you situated, all was right with the world again.
I know things like wiping your spit-up and changing your clothes don't seem terribly exciting, but for an auntie like me, every new thing I do for you is special. You've got amazing parents and I know they don't need me to do any of their work for them, but I really love to do it anyway. I love that I'm going to be a part of your life and upbringing. I hope you'll think I'm a cool aunt. I hope you won't take too much advantage of the fact that I'm a total softie for all my nieces and nephews. I'm excited to get to know you better, but I'm in no hurry for you to grow up any faster. I can't believe it's already been a month!
Love,
Aunt Meg
