I don't have a photo of the kid, as my sister's in Seattle; but I do have the above pic of my sister that she'd emailed me a couple of weeks ago. She'd told me several times before that he was big, but when I saw the photo I almost fell out of my chair.
"My nephew's a Sasquatch!" I thought.
Big male babies are a family curse. My mom constantly reminds me of the fact that I was almost ten pounds when I was born.
"I came this close to losing my life! Your head was so damn big," she always says before guilting me into loaning her large sums of money or murdering her enemies.
Needless to say, my sister was in labor for a very long time, which started to worry us when she'd passed the 12-hour mark. "Come out, Sasquatch baby," I'd mutter as I impatiently waited for the phone call. Twenty-eight hours after her water broke, my Yeti nephew was finally born this morning. I thought for sure he was going to beat my birth weight. But he ended up weighing a mere nine pounds ... which means his uncle is still the champ.
By the way, his real name is Roland.