Whether or not the words, Uncle Amos, conjures up an image of some kind, old gentleman who hands out chocolate chip cookies to smiling children, and laughs when they gleefully squeal in delight, and tells them to be good in school and they all scream 'Thank you, Uncle Amos!' and he pats each one of them on the head and sends them on their merry way, and then he goes back into his house, alone but happy, and keeps on smiling and never does or thinks a bad thing - whether or not this is your vision of what an Uncle Amos would be, or just mine, the fact remains that the title will refer to me in just over six months.

I'm not a great communicator. I forget to reply to messages. I delay talking to people I need to talk to. I can lose concentration in a conversation fairly quickly, because I start thinking about what we look like to someone watching us have a conversation, and stop focusing on what is actually being said in the conversation. It's a strange thing to do, and I wish I could stop doing it, but it just keeps on happening. I think this is the root of my oft noticed absent-mindedness.

Because of this apparent deficiency and the 3,637 miles between us, I didn't hear about my sister's pregnancy until last Wednesday, I believe almost three months after the baby was first discovered. I don't feel shocked or surprised. It was news that I felt I was expecting, and, of course, I knew it would happen when I wasn't in the country. Of course it would. My first chance at being an uncle: that hallowed family role which connotes images of mentors who aren't your parents; hives of information about how your mother or father were when they were your age; a safe and trusted source of new experiences and fun outings; a man you can talk to about certain things, and not have to worry about the fact you're talking to your dad. My first chance, and the Atlantic Ocean is in between.

Despite the distance, I want to be a good uncle, so I decided the first step in achieving such an aim, would be to look up what the word actually means.

So, in the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, the word uncle means 'the brother of one's father or mother' as well as 'the husband of one's aunt'. Well, no surprise there. Below these obvious and widely known definitions it notes a third meaning to the word: 'used as a cry of surrender.' It then has an example: 'I was forced to cry uncle'.

I'm sorry, what?

I had no idea that this was such a thing. A word that should be comforting and bring a sense of trust and happiness is also, strangely, a substitute for the phrase 'I give up!'. Language's tendency to pick a word and patch another meaning onto it is playfully clever, but slightly arrogant. E.g. why is squash both a vegetable-like fruit and a fast-paced game? It's perplexing. Here I am, on a quest to be the perfect uncle, and I hit this linguistic obstacle. Not encouraging.

The dictionary didn't give me much, so I then continued my search for clues on how to be a good uncle online, and came upon the much revered, highly respected, held in high regard website, The Art of Manliness, in all its masculine glory. In a very well written, scholarly and informative piece entitled 'How to Be an Awesome Uncle', the writer eloquently posits that 'the best kind of uncle is often one who can share a different world with his nieces and nephews than the one they're growing up in at home'. A sound piece of advice, and one I shall hold closely, more so than the negative connotations of surrender and cowardice.

It was then that I stopped short my research. I hadn't really done much, but I saw it was futile. There's no way I could come upon an accurate description of what my role will be. That's not a thing a dictionary or a website could decide. I have an uncle, my Uncle Russ. Everything he is, is what other uncles are not. He is Uncle Russ. There really is no way these bland meaningless definitions can come to describe him. But then there is no way in which he deviates from what my uncle should be. My image of Uncle Russ is sacrosanct; any other kind of Uncle Russ would be plain wrong.

There may be an image in my own head of what an Uncle Amos should be, but no matter what I think, the child that's going to be born is going to grow up with his own image of what an Uncle Amos looks like, and the fact that it's going to be me is hilarious and exciting. I find it funny that I have a chance to create any kind of Uncle Amos image, chocolate chip and such, if I really wanted to. But maybe I'll just stick with what I've got. I'm sure it will be fine.