Uncle Baby

by Katie on September 24, 2010

In lieu of our nephew’s impending birth today (or at least we all hope for my sister’s sake, who is rounding the corner of roughly seven hours in labor right now), I thought it would be appropriate to share a little family history.

My youngest brother, Mason, is just about ten years my junior. For some reason, during his toddler stage, I started calling him “Baby Boy,” and just never stopped.

Baby Boy

Really. To this day, even though he has passed me in weight and height, I call all 15 years of him Baby Boy. And would not hesitate to yell out, “Way to go, Baby Boy!” after one of those sacks I’ve been hearing he makes during his freshman football games.

One day, sometime while he was in preschool I think, my mom and I were in the car together, and I said something about Baby Boy in our conversation.

“Katie, how long are you going to call him that? Don’t you think he’s getting a little old?”

“No, he’s not. He is the baby boy in our family. I’m going to call him that forever.”

“Come on, you’re really going to call him that when he starts school? He’ll be embarrassed.”

“Of course I am. That’s even more of a reason to do it.”

“So really, how long are you going to call him that? What’s going to happen when you all grow up and you have kids? What are they going to call him?”

“Uncle Baby. Duh.”

So since that day, when I was 13 or 14 or somewhere in those early teen years, it’s been a family joke that Mason would be called Uncle Baby, when the day came where that title was appropriate.

Turns out, my mom didn’t so much need to be worried about my kids, as she did my sister’s, since at the rate we’re both headed, she’ll have four before I even think about it.

So, here’s to Baby Boy, who gets to try out his longtime-planned title of Uncle Baby today. And who might kill me (which he could do fairly easily these days) for sharing this with the world.


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