The relationship I have with my nephew is something special. It’s funny how he gives me the same respect that I give my own parents. Even though I am not old enough to be his father or even his uncle, he still calls me by my first name—no “Uncle” or “Mr.” in front.
He doesn’t remember a time when he didn’t know me, and it has been a privilege to watch him grow up and become his own little person. He’s a handful and full of life, always up to something. Even when I try to lecture him, he’s off somewhere in his own world daydreaming of superheroes and train sets.
I may not be able to compete with his action figures, but one thing I’ve noticed is that we share a mutual respect for each other. He understands that I just want the best for him and I recognize that no matter how difficult things can get, he needs understanding.
The trust that I have earned from him is something I never take lightly. He’ll come to me in the middle of the night complaining about a friend who was mean to him on the playground or about a toy that broke. He knows I will be there for whatever it is that he needs. And he listens to me even when I’m telling him something he doesn’t want to hear.
When he falls and scrapes his knee or has difficulty with something, my natural instinct is to quickly scoop him up and bring him over to me. He may start to cry, but soon realizes that I’m there by his side and once again he is reassured and able to trust me.
Even if I don’t always get the chance to see him, he still calls me by my first name. We are connected by a bond that can’t be broken, and I’m so proud of him for confirming that every time. The sound of his voice saying my name is enough for me to keep going—and I hope it’s enough for him too.
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