Two McPolack Half-Breeds

Met my brother's babies yesterday, a bit shy of their 24-hour birthday mark. They are of course more than just McPolack owing to their momma being of a different mix of nationalities. Really what they are is American. (Though the commie pinko leftist socialist hippie in me wants to say United Statesian.)

I've always loved me some nice warm baby and these two did not disappoint. My nephew is about 1.5 pounds smaller than my niece (neither have names yet) and was sleeping when I met him. He made gurgly sounds and twitched beneath his blanket burrito like a little kitty. My niece was awake and kicking her feet and, post-diaper change, squawling and pissed. I felt an immediate kinship to her. As she lay in my arms sucking furiously on my index finger I thought honey, I feel your pain. This spiritual plane of existence really blows sometimes.

But there's good stuff in it, too, of course. I didn't get to hold my nephew as long as I would have liked owing to McMumsy being a baby-snatcher and terrible backseat baby driver who I believe would have her grandchildrens' bums wiped by autoclaved vestial virgins using organic cotton loomed by unicorns (and I am only exaggerating slightly), but I got to spend a fair amount of time with my niece. And there may as well have been nobody else in the room because it was all about that little moppet. I snuggled her and stroked her wee arm and whispered to her until she drifted off to sleep.

Oh did my ovaries ache.