When he eats a banana, or vomits on me, or kisses his favourite giraffe toy, something happens
The form had been completed for me, all I had to do was sign. My sister passed a pen across the table. According to the document, I, contact 2, consented to being called by a childcare centre in the event of a medical emergency – provided they could not first reach my sister, her partner, her midwife Karen, or God. At the form’s bottom left, a field blazed with all the possibility of a universe, was the question: “Relationship to infant?” The reply, in my sister’s spidery hand, was uncle. Therein lies the problem: I have no idea what that means.
Related: The bond between adult children and their grandparents is an under-told love story | Josephine Tovey
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