He's the one who first made me an aunt.
Eighteen-ish years ago, I was pacing a cottage that no longer exists, wanting to get in the car and drive several hours right now to meet our new nephew. Spike reasonably pointed out that we would arrive just before midnight, and nurses might frown upon our arrival at that hour. He was right of course. I tried not to be grumpy about that.
The next day, I held this little guy for the very first time, and said softly, "hey Punk...hello...hi". He gazed back solemnly at me. He already looked a month old when he was born.
One of his most memorable moments took place a few years later, when he was learning to spell, and was thus spelling everything. All the time. His mother was telling him off for something, and at the same time letting him know that he wouldn't experience any consequences this time, and he looked at her calmly - he's always calm, this one - and said, "F. U."
Turns out he was feeling relieved that he wasn't going to be sent to his room or whatever, and was, of course, attempting to spell "phew". Perfectly reasonable, once that was understood, once the initial, "WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME??!!!" moment had come and gone.
For several years we got together, he on violin, and me on keys, to figure out some music. He's talented, this one. Has a good ear.
He and Spike share a love for ear-shattering, heart-stopping screamer music. The louder, the better. They come back from concerts, laughing, telling outrageous stories, and then saying, "WHAT?" when I respond, because their ears are still ringing and they can't hear me.
He drives. And works. And works out. And observes the world with a hilariously wry sense of humour. He'll have you in stitches, but only if you're paying attention.
And today?
Well today, he's a high school grad.
Congratulations to you, Punk!
You're the one who made me an aunt, and Spike an uncle.
We're ridiculously proud of you.
And I'm happy to declare that today you are, indeed, my favourite.
