Say Uncle!

I have been called many things in my life, some of them unsavory. I've held several titles in long list of mediocre jobs, accrued a handful of nicknames, even performed on stage a variety of personae. But one title eluded me my entire life until now. All I had to do was marry into it.

I am a proud and at times affectionate uncle. An uncle who shamelessly picks favorites (don't judge me) and thoroughly enjoys this newfound idea of a return-policy child.

Don't let the limp, docile position fool you. If she's not running around wreaking havoc, it's because the benadryl kicked in.

That's not to say I don't try. I can adapt to an active child. Let her kick and kick and wiggle and bounce. Outside.

She's the outdoor child. She's even travel size for convenience.

Yes, here's the favorite. He actually is docile. And sweet and lazy and fat. Plus he likes me and laughs when my whiskers tickle him. The perfect baby.

To all of you who read this and care, think before you start a family. If baby-hunger strikes as more of a mild craving, the "maternal munchies" if you will, stop. Wait. You may only have to wait out a sibling to be satisfied.