The First

My sister's son is the first born on both sides of the family. The first time my sister felt him kick was February 14, 1987. She sat holding my grandpa's hand, and as he drew his last breath she felt the baby inside her stir.

Both of my mother's parents were still alive when he was born so he was their first great-grandchild. On one visit to Florida when he was just a baby, my sister dressed him in a bow tie to match his great-grandfather's and they went out for dinner. My grandfather was so proud he carried him around the restaurant to show him off to the other diners.
He was the first to take swimming lessons...diaper dippers. The first to go to the zoo and eat an ice cream cone. The first to go to school. The first to study abroad (note to my dad: that means overseas, not women!) Tomorrow he will be the first to graduate from college and this summer he will be the first to leave home.

Being the first is a burden and a blessing. He seems to have taken it all in stride. I'm most proud of the way he has taken advantage of the many opportunities available to him and set an example for his younger sisters and cousins. While in so many ways he may be the first, one thing is for sure...he won't be the last!