Ah, here she is.
All lovely six pounds, one ounce. Loads of brown-red hair. She apparently has elegant long fingers, which can only be attributed to her lovely Mamah.
Apparently this child is so utterly adorable she has effectively turned my older brother into a blithering coo-ing idiot. Oh, wait. We can hardly blame his life-long affliction on a being only arrived since tea time.
Every child need an Auntie. Every child needs an advocate in the completely inexplicable forest of grown-ups.
With any luck you have/had/know/are one. I wouldn't have traded Great Aunt Barbara and her yams for a string of pristine siren-filled Greek Islands, not even that one archipelago that occurs only in particularly nice dreams. You know the one.
All the same, I have whispered my thanks to The Steven for the billionth time for the vasectomy.