The Replacement Child

          Most people associate words like “cute” and “cuddly” and “loveable” with babies. On the other hand, I associated them with words like “annoying” and “smelly” and “spoiled brats.” I’ve never been a big fan of babies, and never wanted one of my own. They cry too much, take all the attention away from others, and it takes much work to care for them. When I was younger, I loved attention and despised work. So imagine how bummed I was when I learned that my sister was having her first baby. 
          The date was September 11, 2004. We got the phone call early in the afternoon. My sister was on her way to the hospital. The new baby was on its way. I was saddened and felt as though the life had been sucked out of me. My parents rushed to the hospital, and when we got there, walking inside was like going to my own funeral. I felt like a wrongly convicted felon on death row with no way to prove my innocence. 
          My parents were thrilled, of course, as was the rest of my family. Everyone was jittery as we filed into the tiny, white-walled waiting room. As we sat waiting, beads of perspiration slowly dripped down my father’s heart-shaped face while Mom bounced on her feet. I stayed cuddled in the chair, withdrawn from everyone else, quietly awaiting the arrival of the replacement child. I mean my nephew.  
          Suspense was killed nearly three agonizing hours later. Low in spirits, I trudged to the nursery with the rest of the crowd. I pushed my way to the front, wanting to see the child that would be taking my place as the baby in the family. Once there, I peered through the glass window, seeing a lone baby inside. 
          Kaedon was huge, bigger than most newborns. His head was covered with dark, messy hair and his almond-shaped eyes looked to be a beautiful shade of blue. He cheeks were red as he bawled at the top of his lungs. I couldn’t believe that such a deafening sound could escape such a tiny mouth. 
          Gently, I tapped the glass with my finger, trying to grab his attention. Kaedon turned his watermelon head and looked at the family, his sparkly, watery eyes gazing up at us. He stopped crying and began to laugh. His first smile, and it was shot to us. It made me feel warm inside, like how you feel after drinking a warm mug of hot chocolate. 
          “Isn’t he beautiful?” my mom whispered as she wrapped her arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer to her. 
          I smiled, holding onto my mom. He was the most precious thing I’ve ever seen. Maybe this whole baby thing wasn’t going to be so bad.