My mother prayed for a girl but none would come. The Y chromosomes were too strong.

She birthed a household of brothers.

Perhaps this is why she is now so excited.

She says, of course, she just wants the tiny person suddenly growing in the belly of my brother's wife to be healthy.

But I suspect really she hopes the first of the family's next generation is packing a double X and an instinctive love of romcoms.

She's had more than three decades of boys with grassy knees and young men with torn jeans. It'd be nice if she could buy a dress for someone.

She's earned it. They say grandkids are the reward for the troubles of being a parent and, if four lots of young manhood comes with anything, it's a fair share of trouble.

In our case, criminal court appearances, self-harm, battles with cancer, mild alcoholism, facial reconstruction, the odd outbreak of dinner-table violence and – perhaps the only one that ever came close to cracking her – the occasional Saturday morning puddle in an unsuspecting corner of the house. Often in a corner where a similarly unsuspecting household appliance would be standing.

I still have nightmares about a barely teenage me waking up to find one of my own flesh and blood sat at my desk, mid-stream, across my computer.

It was never exactly Shameless but there's been plenty to be ashamed about.

"You've got all that to look forward to" I told my brother down the phone upon hearing he is to make us uncles.

But he had more pressing matters afoot.

"I hope I'll still be able to go out on Saturday nights", he mused. "At least we'll be able to have a right good session at the christening."

He has his priorities – even if he still hasn't got a name in mind.

I suggested Colin. He laughed. Not politely. Probably rightly. I still swear this moniker was my ma's revenge for my audacity at not being female.

I'm not sure if being an uncle is a big deal in this day and age.

Chances are I'll not get to see the little rugrat as much as I'd like and before I know it, he – or she – will be a sulking, hulking teenager doing all the things we did.

But I find it quite exciting anyway.

Here's a little thing I'll be able to show magic tricks to, then buy Marquee Moon for, then eventually get drunk with when all those things are still exciting for him or her because they're still new.

It's taken 35 years, but the four of us are no longer the children of the family.

It's a bizarre thing for someone so cynical to admit but that realisation actually fills me with childlike wonder.