I walk by a mirror and I no longer recognize the reflection. When did I start liking kids? Correction: when did I start wanting to hold, rock, soothe and dare I say it. . . change small children (in particular, my nephew)? For those of you who know me, which if you are reading this blog, I imagine you do, you know that I do not particularly care for miniature-sized humans. They lack the intellectual stimulation that I crave with those that I interact with on a regular basis. Even when I was a wee lass, I never cared for children. I was the weird, precocious kid who would rather go over to a friend's house and enjoy a cup of coffee with their mom than play barbies. In fact, I decided at the age of five that I was too old for barbies and by the age of eight I made a conscious decision to close the Disney animated movie chapter in the book of my life. And for a non-sequitur, I am also holy opposed to children who are sticky. Sticky children are those who have a permanent kool-aid stain around their mouths accompanied by fragments of encrusted animal crackers and Chips 'Ahoy. I'm fairly certain you can Google the term. I will always love my nephew, but as soon as that sucker becomes sticky, he is no longer welcome at my home. Don't scowl, my sister and I have had this understanding for years now.
Back to the new man in my life. My nephew is the coolest thing since the other side of the pillow. Basically, from the first moment I held the little stinker, I fell in love. All I want to do is hold him and buy him clothes, both of which things have proven to be problematic because I live 1500 miles away and my sister has complained that her son has more clothes than she does. What concerns me about all of this is that I am kind of a natural. Is it possible for the girl who doesn't want to have children to posses maternal instincts? Moreover, could I be changing my mind about having kids? Stay tuned.
Another reason why I love my nephew, he just spit-up all over my little sister.