This weekend we celebrated Claire and Andrew and the imminent arrival of their son, my nephew, Jeffrey Cotton. An almost certainly squirrelly little boy we are all certain to fall in love with instantly.
We ate loaded bagels and homemade blueberry muffins (Jan, I need that recipe). People mixed spicy bloody Mary's, though I went the way of the mimosa. My dad's signature Pandora station, seeded almost entirely with singer/ songwriters with prickly voices, played in the background, and I lamented the weather, which was reminiscent of the last shower we threw for Claire, now nearly two years ago.
Although I have a fondness for all female baby showers and the feminine mystique that often shrouds them, I appreciated this celebration of life. A house full of people coming together to let the newest member know he is already loved. He already has a tribe to surround him and protect him. To laugh with him and play with him. To teach him and train him. And there is no lesson more important to instill in this new life than the importance of family.
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I can't wait to meet you, Jeffrey Cotton. I can't wait for long days at the beach with you. For sneaking you even a fraction of the treats that your mother has snuck my children. I can't wait to hear your tiny giggles. To watch you take your first tentative steps. I hope to me as good an aunt to you as your mama has been to my children. You are so loved, sweet, strong boy.
