My cousin, who was more like a sister to me growing up, is someone who I think is the luckiest and strongest person in the world—well one of them, at least. She had her son right out of high school and has raised him to be the sweetest little boys, who is the most loved human life form that I know. She, as barely an adult herself, took this tiny potato and turned him into the smartest two-year-old monster. Her greatest gift to me? Letting me take him weekend after weekend. Letting me create and everlasting bond with this absolutely baffling little man.

He is my world. Until I have children of my own, which won’t be for a while, he is the reason Fridays are exciting and Sundays are sad. Waking up every Friday, the first thing I think of is him; going to pick him up, what time I get to see him, and what I have planned for the weekend for him. Every time I pull up at his house he runs to me like I’m his favorite person in the world, and for the three days we spend together I actually might be. Sundays are the worst because, well who likes Mondays, but they’re even worse because I know I have to say goodbye to him for a week.

His hugs are the best. I’m serious. I swear it’s like hugging a life-sized teddy bear, the best part being the little fingers on your shoulder. Somehow, his kisses are even cuter. They are wet and sticky and sometimes really disgusting but yet nothing is ever right in the world until I get one from him. The games we play keep me laughing for hours even harder than they make him laugh. One minute it’s a piggyback ride through the house, then it’s letting him just jump all over me on the couch as if I’m the coolest jungle gym ever made, and my personal favorite is when I run into the wall with a slight thud and then listen to him laugh at my fake pain with the cutest belly laugh.

As he gets older his attention span had increased, making it less exhausting to play with him and much easier to teach him how things work. His reading and spelling skills are far beyond what I ever expected from a two year old and he can remember the smallest details, even things I don’t notice. My favorite one being his grandmother’s truck is a Ford and every time he sees the logo he screams “Mimi’s Truck!” as loud as he can. This experience with him is the overall most rewarding thing about taking him so often.

Getting to watch him grow. Every time I see him he’s learnt a new word or even figured out how to say an old world better. He grows so fast and so much each week that I think being able to watch from my seat is as equally enjoyable as watching from his mothers. As an aunt I’m awarded the pleasure of seeing him all the time and loving him for so many reasons. As an aunt, I get to watch him grow and be there for him as he stumbles. These are things his parents can and, without a doubt do, do for him so what makes my relationship with him special?

As an aunt, I can play devil’s advocate and give him more candy and chocolate than he should have and let him stay up past his bedtime. Of course, on a more serious note, I learn so much about myself through this experience. I now know that I want kids more than I ever thought I would. I know that sometimes it’s not about what you want; you can’t always sleep the whole night or sit down for more than ten minutes and you can’t always watch what you want on TV. Being his aunt has taught me how to be selfless and how to take care of another human being.

Most importantly, as an aunt, I know that he’ll never be alone. He’ll always have someone he can trust and confide in and a place he can call home. Lastly, as an aunt, I’ve learned what it feels like to love someone unconditionally.