Summer vacation means time with my nephews, which has caused me to reflect on my responsibilities and blessings as an uncle. First, I support the parents. Full stop. When my two-year-old nephew decided he wanted cake for breakfast and asked me for permission, I refused, knowing that his parents had already said no. I held the line, even when the cutie-patootie stuck out a pouty lip and, failing the silent tactic, began to scream.

As their uncle, I can still lavish attention, if not sweets. Once he calmed down a bit, I was happy for the little guy to lead me by the hand to help him with a puzzle. Later that day, I kicked the soccer ball around with his older brother. This nephew’s interest in sports has the added benefit of coaxing my kids to play. Everybody wins.

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While the word “uncle” has Latin roots, it may also be an Americanized version of the Galic anacol, which means protector. I hope my nephews look to me as someone they can trust to keep them safe. Perhaps I can offer some wisdom as they grow up. I’m full of advice; just ask my kids.

For now, I learn from them, although their nutritional choices leave something to be desired. (The six-year-old is apparently fueled by yogurt, bananas, and cookies.) My four-year-old nephew informed me over lunch, which, for him, consisted entirely of bacon, that his favorite ocean animal was a blobfish. I chuckled, thinking that he had invented that name, but I shouldn’t have doubted his knowledge.

Google confirmed the blobfish’s existence and also that scientists first called their discovery Mr. Blobby. Nicknames have improved over the years: the floppy water balloon, the 1980s Jello dessert, and (my favorite) the marine Jabba the Hut—"Jee mo da” (I like that).

In certain cultures, “uncle” is not only a kin relationship but also a term of respect and endearment for an elder. I hope that my nephews, as well as my children, have men in their lives who can guide and nurture them, who are open to listening and learning from their interests, as well as passing on a thing or two about Star Wars and maybe the occasional green vegetable.

Andrew Taylor-Troutman is the author of Little Big Moments, a collection of mini-essays about parenting, and Tigers, Mice & Strawberries: Poems. Both titles are available most anywhere books are sold online. Taylor-Troutman lives in Chapel Hill where he serves as pastor of Chapel in the Pines Presbyterian Church and occasionally stumbles upon the wondrous while in search of his next cup of coffee.