Auntie

Feeling punchy a bit ago, and with my wrists really bothering me, I asked my friend Rebelbelle from Open Diary to consider doing a guest entry (I'd already used a picture of her front door).

She responded by emailing this, and even included a song suggestion.

Kiss me extra tender
Hold me extra tight
'Cause I'm savin' your sweetness
For a lonely night. *

He walked around in a daze, bumping into furniture or people indiscriminately. He sucks his thumb and drags a pale blue blanket behind him. I know he is nearing the point of collapse. I whisper his name and he toddles over to me.

Gently I gather him into my arms and cuddle him close. After a few token whimpers, he falls into a deep sleep. His entire body is limp, almost boneless. So deep is his slumber that he no longer sucks his thumb. I place him in his bed, careful to keep the blanket tucked against him.

I have given serious thought to booking passage on a Space Shuttle mission around the time they try to take that worn out piece of â˜comfortâ™ from him. At the very least I will invest in some industrial grade ear plugs. That is one of the true joys of being an aunt. I can always go home.

*”Pocketful of Rainbows,” Elvis Presley

She wasn't certain whether or not it fit the parameters, but it does, in the loosest sense, and it made me smile, both because the moment between herself and her nephew was so tender, and because I, too, am an aunt, and know the joys of being able to borrow a child for a finite length of time.

Like grandparents, we are allowed to bend the rules, which behavior parents generally refer to as “spoiling” their children.

Me? I prefer to think of it as “sweetening” them.

Thanks to Rebelbelle for the contribution.

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CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 Auntie by Melissa Bartell is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.