My sister has two kids. I visited her last weekend and we exchanged gifts early (she will be out of town for Christmas). While I was there I noticed that her oldest child had brought a gift home from school and I had a vivid flashback to childhood.

There on the table was a round mass of white ceramic clay with a single handprint in the middle. M's name was written (scrawled, really) across the bottom in bright red. It was the standard Kindergarten holiday gift to Mom. It has been some twenty years since I brought my own version of this project home, and it is highly doubtful that my mother could find mine (if it exists at all). I do not even remember the last time I even thought about this whole deal.

After a long tussle, I had M put his hand in it to prove that it was his. He thought that was very funny and he couldn't believe I made him do it. That's OK, I can't believe I'm an Uncle.