Uncle Ben.

My brother Dan and his wife Samantha had a baby boy, which they've named Dan Jr., at 10:04 p.m. on August 9, 2006.

He weighed 9 pounds, 6 ounces, and is 21 inches long.

Samantha's doing well. The baby is ridiculously cute. (Expect photos soon. My mom took dozens.)

We passed the baby around the room when we got to see him. I had to sit down to hold him, for I was too scared to do it while standing.

My dad says holding a new baby, no matter how often you do it, always scares him.

"I know they're not really fragile, but they just seem like they should be," he said.

As we left the hospital, my dad called me "Uncle Benjie" as he stepped into his car. The name led me to think about long grain wild rice.

"Good night, Grandpa," I said to him as he closed the car door.

In the driver's seat, Dad thought about that for a second, rolled down the window, then looked at me and said, "Well, that just sounds weird."

"I know," I said.

"I suppose it's technically true now," Dad said. "But that just sounds weird."

"Well, he doesn't have to call you that," I said. "You can pick whatever you want him to call you."

"Yeah, I guess," Dad said, though the name wasn't what unsettled him. It was the distinction.