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More fun than a platypusEvery time someone tells me God has no sense of humor, I am reminded of A) the platypus, and B) my brother's impending fatherhood. Platypi are just funny creatures--and besides, I chuckle every time I say the word. As for the mere idea of my brother in charge of the care and education of a new life that has his genetic disposition for trouble and general tomfoolery? Now, that's funny. Sometime this month, I'll get a phone call from my brother and his wife telling me I am the proud aunt of a bouncing baby nephew. (Let's just say modern technology has taken the surprise out of the question of the baby's boy or girl status.) And, while my sister-in-law is as gentle as the day is long, I don't think she's quite prepared for the challenges of raising a Latzke boy child. If genetic history is any indicator, she and my brother are in for quite a change in their quiet lives. And Auntie Jenni will be right there, chuckling and reminding them that God has a sense of humor. I can't wait for the major milestones of my nephew. Oh sure, the first words and steps are monumental, but what about his first puppy and the first time he rides a tractor? Or his first pair of boots, and the first time he pets a bucket calf's soft nose? There should be a spot in the baby book for those, too. Sure, I won't be a daily presence in his little life, but I hope he'll grow up knowing he's loved by his extended family so far away. And, as he grows, I will be there with candy in my purse, toys that make noise, and the camera that never leaves my side to document every minor detail. When he thinks his parents aren't being fair, I'll probably side with him. I'm sure to spoil him unmercifully if my current shopping habits are any indication--I already have a stack of toys and children's books stockpiled for visits from Auntie Jenni and he's not even born yet. At this rate, I may never have disposable income ever again. Most importantly, I'll be the one telling him stories about his father's antics. Remember God's sense of humor, now. I figure sharing 30 years' worth of my brother's pranks, teasing, and overall big-brother behavior with his offspring is my divine little-sister right. So, when he's five and he doesn't want to share his toy tractors with the other kids, I'll tell him about his own father's toy hoarding from my sister and me. When he's 10 and he doesn't want to put down his book to help his father with chores, I'll tell him about his dad's Zane Grey and Louis L'Amour collections and the flashlight under the covers trick. At 17, right after he's had a fight with his folks about his truck, I'll patiently explain about his own father's youthful driving habits and how I hope he doesn't repeat them. You see, that's the true job of an aunt or uncle--it's to be the voice of reason and historical accuracy. And, while I'll be far away during most of his lifetime, I hope that he'll grow up knowing that Auntie Jenni will always be around watching out for him. I am so excited to bring back toys and trinkets from all my travels for him, or take him to see his first rodeo. I'll be right there in the bleachers cheering him on--as he shows a calf, or scores in a game, or plays in the school band. I'll be there in the audience the day he graduates, and on the day he says his vows and starts his own family with his own bride. But for now, I'll be content with singing him a lullaby and chuckling as his father tries to figure out the mechanics of disposable diapers and car seats. This should be more fun than a barrel full of platypi. Jennifer M. Latzke can be reached by phone at 620-227-1807, or by e-mail at jlatzke@hpj.com. 1/5/09 Date: 12/26/08
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