My baby cousin, Harper, was born exactly a week befroe my birthday. Between Oct. 10 and Oct. 17 I feel as if I'm allowed to celebrate for a week straight.
Harper is a lot like how you would imagine most 4-year-olds, but somehow she's just a little bit more. I don't typically hang out with children, but somehow Harper makes complete sense to me.
When my mother rushed me out of school last week Friday, it was to pick up Harper. My aunt and uncle has been sitting in a hospital for the past 24 hours, waiting for a baby to come, and little Harper had been stuck waiting at daycare all day to see said baby.
Luckily we didn’t run into any traffic on our way up there, which surprised me because the Super Bowl was just two days away. But we picked up Harper on time. We still hadn’t heard anything from my aunt and my uncle about the baby, but Harper refused to go anywhere but the hospital.
My mom and I decided that it would be best to head toward the hospital, but not go in, for the sake of keeping Harper out of everyone’s way. But by the time we made it to the hospital, the baby was finally there.
“It’s a boy,” Harper had told me. “I want the baby to be a boy.” But the thing is that we didn’t know the gender of said baby, but Harper constantly changed her mind like night and day.
She was impatient, and she raced down hallways to find the birthing center of a hospital she had only been to once before. When we finally checked in and made it to the room, the nurse had told her she had to wait, so she then proceeded to crawl around on the floor and act like she was a cat.
When my uncle finally ushered us into the room, she was done with waiting. “Come meet your new baby sister!” they had told her, and then she was enraptured by the newborn.
She wanted to touch its head, and squeeze its fingers, and she especially wanted to hold her baby sister. She was insistent that she got to hold the little girl. Luckily she didn’t have to wait too long, although I believe that it felt like forever to Harper.
The new baby was bigger then Harper or I was, coming in at 10 pounds and 22 inches. Her size didn’t affect the way Harper held her, though.
The little girl was much too big for Harper’s little lap and much smaller hands, so we swaddled her up and laid her on a pillow on Harper’s lap. I can’t count how many times she kissed her newborn sister’s head.
After a while my mother and I packed up our things and started to head home, leaving the new and improved family behind us.
Sometime during the night they had decided on a perfect name.
Harper and little Hazel will have plenty of fun together.