My baby brother sent pictures of his newborn son today. Cute kid. I can’t help but notice he looks more like his mother.

These pictures were taken by my brother’s girlfriend’s mom, who apparently doesn’t know how to take pictures. Ah, whatever. Most babies are cute anyway and even though I can’t be there (and despite this recent sendage of images) I still feel like it’s happening to someone I don’t know. And only two pictures? Wow. If it were my kid, I’d have about a billion images just from the first day. Apparently more are on the way. We’ll see. And yeah, that’s what you’ve want after you’ve spent x-amount of hours being pushed through a slimy hole, getting all worked up about it, having a quick/painful snip of your gentleman’s equipment…what you really want is a BRIGHT flash in your face.

Le sigh. I love that baby. I have not one bad feeling about that baby, even if it doesn’t look like my family or my brother. I’m hoping that once he gets a little older, he’ll look more like my handsome brother, but it will probably never know it’s half Mexican. I’m interested to see how this little life progresses and grows. I cross my fingers in hoping that his parents don’t fuck him up and that he has all the chances he’ll need to succeed in life; despite his geographic location. If I could do it, so can he. Good luck Michael. You’re gonna need it. And hopefully, when you’re a little older, you can visit your cool Aunt Kristen in California and I can show you a wonderful world beyond Elkhorn, Nebraska. Just remember, when life is tough and you feel like you can’t stand it anymore, give me a call and I’ll send you a plane ticket. You’ll always have a place to runaway to.