My one-year-old nephew, Teddy, started to cry as soon as his father handed him over to me. I didn’t know how to hold a baby. Scrunching up his face, now bright red, he squirmed de!antly in my arms.
“Please, little man,” I whispered, rocking Teddy from side to side, shaking a rattle inches from his nose. “Just let Daddy take his shower.”
I sang “B-I-N-G-O,” stuck out my tongue, played peekaboo— all the things I’d seen Teddy’s father do to make him laugh. The crying came harder. I held out my phone—something Teddy always wanted to play with, but we never let him do—and watched him smear his tiny !ngers across the glowing screen, mesmerized and, miraculously, quiet. It didn’t last long. My brother-in-law Craig returned downstairs in his suit,…
