Today, I became both an aunt and a great-aunt. No, it’s not one of those brain teasers (”the old surgeon was…his mother!”). My brother’s wife and Husband’s eldest niece both gave birth on the same day. My nephew was born in the early morning in the heartland, and my great-niece in the afternoon on the coast. Both of the little blighters missed my birthday by a day, but they’re close enough that I’ll always be able to remember their birthdays.

Poor things. Let me tell you about early January birthdays, my little chickens: not only are you screwed out of good birthday presents, but everyone is too depressed from returning to work or school on your birthday to celebrate properly. Happy birthdays!

(Great-aunt. Doesn’t that sound bizarre? “Great-aunt” is generationally equivalent to “grandmother.” How is that possible? I’m the mother of an infant, for God’s sake. No one who is still getting up to tend to children in the middle of the night should have to bear a “great” or “grand” appellation.)