I’ve discovered a new role within the family hierarchy and I have gladly embraced it.

For the second time in 13 days, I have become a great uncle. I know what a father’s role is (I’ve done it three times), I know what a grandfather’s role is (already have two with another on the way in December), I know uncle’s role is, but a great uncle? Can you be any further down the family totem pole?

Plus, what’s so great about it? Am I supposed to do more or less than a regular uncle? Seems like I should do more because of the adjective, but in reality, I’m another rung down the ladder.

The little baby human arrived Tuesday night to proud parents and grandparents. I felt guilty for even being around. I didn’t dare try to buzz in for a hospital visit and say “I’m the child’s great uncle.”They would have buzzed me right out of there. And I would have understood; you gotta draw the visitation line somewhere.

I might as well have said I’m the parents’ mailman.

After what must have been a couple of wrong turns, which made for a long day for everyone from the parents all the way to the great uncle, the little bundle of joy showed up and immediately asked, “Who’s that guy standing in the corner?”

The bundle of joy is a she, which nobody knew until 6:53 p.m. Yes, there are people in this world who don’t do gender reveal parties. This was a mystery all the way until the end, but the Great Uncle had a feeling this was going to be of the female species.

You know the old saying — Great Uncles just have a way of knowing.

She still doesn’t have a name, but I’m thinking that should take of itself by the time she needs a driver’s license.

But all levity aside, I was more than happy to sit in the fourth row of the bleachers and watch it all take place. (Well, not “all,” but you know what I mean.) There’s something magical about a child being brought into the world that never, ever, gets old.

It’s a day when everyone’s life changes, though some more than others. Even for the great uncle.