The youngest man in my life

So the other day I told you kids all about my niece Evelyn. Now it may seem like I am some sort of jerk aunt who plays favorites and doesn't pay any attention to her nephew.

Well I am here to tell you all that is a bold faced lie. Truth be told it is little Arthur who is the actual crab not me.

Arthur is 6 months old. Until last week I had only met him once when he was about 2 weeks old. We had a few drinks, but didn't really get to know each other. So you can imagine my excitement to really learn who this Arthur character is, his likes, dislikes, favorite movie, all that jazz.

I could hardly contain my enthusiasm when I was sitting in my parent's living room two Sundays ago and my sister pulled up both kids in tow.

I got a glimpse of Artie and instantly wanted to hold his ass.

I mean look at the kid.

He is so adorable that Satan himself would probably want to blow raspberries on his belly. My sister handed him over I got one whiff of baby powder and a tenth of a second of warm baby skin against my cheek, then all hell broke loose.

Dude hates me. He started screaming at the top of his lungs. I thought he had probably shit his pants or something else babies do and passed him off to my sister. He instantly stopped crying and returned to being a delight.

Later I tried picking him up again. Same reaction. My best friend happened to be over that night. She had met the little guy only once more than me. He was fine with her.

Fast forward a few days, I still had not been able to hold Arthur. My sister brings him by to visit. She puts him down for a nap. I have a particularly severe hangover. She tells me she needs to go pick his sister up from pre-school and I need to watch him while she goes. I say hell no, I will go get Evie you watch Cryer McCrierson. She says that won't work because they apparently don't allow pre-schoolers to leave with just anyone. 

So she goes. I sit and pray that the baby will not wake up. Sure as shit five minutes after my sister pulled out of the drive way, I hear whimpers. I go in pick him up, he thinks for a minute, then starts to wail. And he does not stop. Not for one breath. Not until my sister came home...I thought bright lights were the worst thing for a hangover, turns out it is screaming babies.

Anyway, I hope as he gets older Evie will explain to her brother that I'm not all that bad, and that I will buy him anything he wants because I have a problem saying no. Here's hoping our next encounter goes a little more smoothly.