Friday night. 9:30 pm. Joseph, Becca, and Maggie wrapping up a quiet Friday evening, post-enchiladas, twelve minutes into Last of the Mohicans score. Doorbell rings.
Joseph grumpily shuffles over to answer. Opens. Shrieks. I mean, Yells (because men are supposed to yell, I vaguely recall). Shrieks something very loud that he probably should regret, particularly with M drooled across his arm. But no regrets. Time and a place, you know.
For The Joshua had arrived, unannounced, unexpected by anyone. A ghost in the freakin' night. An Alaskan bush ghost with a harem of tattoos, fertilized facial hair, and the biggest corny grin this side of Lloyd Christmas. Wasn't supposed to see his niece for another two months, but couldn't wait so took a 52-hour trip from the Great North to holiday with Burt. He calls her Burt. Which is cool. No one else does.
So they had a grand time. We all did. Uncle Joshie and Burt crammed in some serious bonding, although Burt's mother isn't quite convinced that she needs a tattoo before her first birthday.
One of the coolest surprises I've ever experienced. Almost as good as the time I got a BB gun for Christmas, even though mee mum hated guns. Still does.
Sasha, Josh's special friend, was a delightful surprise as well. Verdicts are coming in fast that Josh is a fortunate dude, this writer's verdict included.
Was so cool.
Note: her first video will be appearing soon. A chronicle of the first 11 days. Keep you posted.
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