To my future niece, I already love you.

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You aren’t here yet. You aren’t even nearly here, in fact, you probably won’t be around for a long whole – I mean a long while like a couple of years.
So maybe this is kinda crazy. Crazy that those couple of years feel around the corner, crazy that I’m already ready to teach you words like extraordinary and phenomenal – words that epitomise what you are to me.
And let me tell you that crazy doesn’t even begin to cover who I am. Crazy – trust me – is a word you’ll hear often when the family talks about me.
They’ll tell you about how I broke my arm because I thought I could fly – or how I had an unhealthy obsession with vampire teen fiction.
That’s me. Your crazy keen eccentric Potterhead auntie.
I’m going to spoil you rotten with knowledge.
I’ll take you anywhere show you anything.
Be the cool alternative auntie that let’s you express yourself in cuss words (just don’t tell your mother…).
I promise I’ll build your appreciation of herbal tea, and watercolour painting and Picasso and the abstract. Your life will be a Jackson Pollock. SPLAT, BANG! Everywhere, taking in everything.
Baby you are doomed to be my nerd protégée. I’ll fill your head with so much magic and so many books fandom will be your favourite pastime.
You’re my little Slytherin baby. I’ll teach you cunning and power.
I’ll write you original poetry and send you photographs I snapped of us when you weren’t looking.
I’ll teach you how to spit wit, and wield sarcasm, dabble in irony and breathe humour – because let’s face it, baby, I’m more than qualified. You’ll always be laughing.
Trust me, you won’t be a girly girl around me. We’ll play football and make mud pies and for the love of God you won’t listen to all that chart music – I’ll take you as old skool as Elvis, even get you a pair of blue suede shoes.
I already love you, baby.
Future baby.
I’m gonna be the best auntie in the world.

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