Grateful: for a nephew who knows my name

How do we know that my nephew J belongs in our family? Because he thinks he is the funniest person in the room. And he is probably right.

He's not yet two and is all full belly and slim hips, a fire plug of a boy who looks startlingly like my brother. His hair has come in, fair and feathery curls, and he has decided Lil E's name is Seesee (or CeCe? J's not so hot at writing these things out) and that, my friends, is that. SeeSee is his name. Really, it's a pretty appropriate nickname, because everything my boy did, that littler boy noted and followed. Monkey SeeSee, other monkey do.

We couldn't get enough of this toddler and his definitive "NO!"s that family members are allowed to laugh at even if it totally ticks off the parents to hear. All Thanksgiving weekend, we mocked his adorable baby-steps gait when he ran at the park and around and around the kitchen island. We egged him on to say his favorite line.

"I'm cute."

No smile, no wince. Just a statement of fact.

It was heaven holding this boy. For the twenty-two seconds he stayed there. And it was even more divine to hear him call out insistently, "AUNT JESSIE!" I was at his beck and call.

I took turns pushing the boys up in the air with my feet while they flew like Superman, let them pile on top of me and laugh and spit in my ears. I made faces at them just to selfishly get a laugh. If I could have nibbled off bits of their cheeks, I would have.

I loved feeling the fuzzy back of my nephew's head, nuzzling his fleshy little chin, kissing his belly every time he lifted his shirt to show it off. I loved seeing my brother scoop up his son and laugh at his little boy's toddler ways.

I loved kicking the soccer ball to my nephew and playing football with Lil E -- two boys with so much energy and not enough catches and throws to burn it all. I loved reading the book about going potty to J and then I loved going home and listening to Lil E read a chapter of his book to me.

There is a freedom in being an aunt, in loving big and then going home. In getting and demanding attention just by showing up, preferably with noisy toy presents. In changing one diaper...maybe.

In being called by name, or some variation thereof. LOUDLY. BECAUSE MY BELLY IS OUT RIGHT NOW.

In rushing over, because how could you not? How could you not go over and immediately bathe that baby in smooches and squeezes when he's all adorable and ornery and crazy about your own kid and going to be the reason you see Justin Bieber live in concert. Four times.