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On the Friday just past, my family welcomed a new member to it; my brother's fiancé was delivered of their son. It is cause for celebration, and rightly so; I am pleased to be an uncle (again) and my wife to be an aunt. Our own daughter, the enviable Ms. 8, has long been excited about the prospect of the new baby, as well. And when we went to see the family on Saturday, she squealed with delight at the sight of her new cousin, while my wife and I spent some time contentedly holding the boy and fussing over him and his parents. My brother and his fiancé looked exhausted, as I am sure they were (and will be for a while, yet), and my nephew did a lot of sleeping, so we did not stay overly long—but it was decidedly good to see the three of them.

Doing so put me in mind of when Ms. 8 was of such a size. (To be fair, it was a while after she was born; she joined us five weeks ahead of schedule, and she weighed less than five pounds—while her cousin came in at nearly eight and a half.) There are times I miss it, to be sure; there is something special in the feeling of a new life in one’s arms. But I am far happier to have a daughter now who talks to me (even if she talks back more often than I might prefer) and who is more and more capable of carrying on conversations. And watching the ways in which how her mind works changes from day to day is both enthralling and satisfying; I find myself continually amazed at her creativity and the perspective she offers—although I know she does not yet know how special it is that she does so.

As I look with pride upon my daughter and joy upon my nephew, I know that my brother and his intended will have quite a time of it. I have every confidence that the two of them will do well, in all. They’ll falter along the way, as all parents do, and they will be stymied by some of the challenges their new son offers them, challenges neither they nor anyone else could foresee. But they will meet them, and they will grow, as he will, and I look forward to seeing how all of them do—as well as to being the one who gives his brother’s kid noisy toys. For there are many my brother gave Ms. 8 for which I have yet to take revenge…just as there are many things he has given my daughter to her good and mine, and for which I will be glad to repay the favor.

I write again, then, the last thing I told my nephew when we left him cradled against his father’s chest yesterday: Welcome to the family, kid. It’s gonna be a hell of a ride. And we love you.