I'm getting soft in my old age

My stepsister recently had a baby. My mom called me from the hospital the other day to tell me that I was an aunt, and my response was less then enthused. I believe I said "Oh, okay." This didn't really go over well, but I have a well-documented dislike of children. I'm actually rather fond of saying that I have the maternal instinct of a rock. They're small, they smell funny, and as I don't speak baby, I can't understand them until they reach about the age of five. Also, the sound of babies crying causes a rather strong stress reaction in me. I spurn commercials featuring talking babies. Plus, they're always so sticky. Case in point...I was at the laundromat recently and there were two little girls there, who of course had some sort of peanut butter & jelly like substance all over them. Their mother seemed to be nowhere in sight, so I was forced to defend myself for the next half hour against their grubbiness. I was so disturbed that I actually went home and took a shower.

So, imagine my surprise when my brother sent me some recent photos of the new baby. It's actually cute. I was all prepared with my normal reaction, which is usually somewhere along the lines of thinking that babies look kind of like alien worms. I must be slipping. It was all tiny and happy-looking and I kinda couldn't help but smile. I actually felt bad about my reaction to the news of its arrival. Most people consider this normal, but I'm totally out of my league here. I was IM'ing with my friend Ann at the time and told her about my reaction to the new baby. She told me that she secretly suspected that I would make a good mother. This, of course, is blasphemy. However, maybe I'll reconsider my former opinion a little. I still don't like babies, but maybe I could be okay with being more like a pebble than a rock.