My Aunt Rocks

Yes, she does, little guy. Meet William. He’s my first nephew! So cute. I bought him this sleeper. I do realize this is a shameless bit of self promotion on my part, but here’s the deal: as soon as they get their stuff together, my sister and her husband are spiriting little William away to the depths of the Great White North (Canada). He’ll grow up amongst the Inuit natives, and learn to make fires from steel wool and flint. He’ll find his way around at night by using the stars as a guide, and make friends with bears and wolves. I’ll probably never see him. And so I hope I can be forgiven one tiny gift-as-subliminal-message. And as he rocks back and forth in the dogsled, on his way home to the toasty igloo, I hope he occasionally thinks of his mysterious, far away aunt with great taste in clothes who sends fantastic presents. “Gee,” he’ll say to himself, (or whatever idiomatic expression they use there) “My aunt rocks.”

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