Isn’t that title just so clever? I’m suffering a bit from worn out, ready to have this baby creativity block.
So, what is special about April 7th? In my life it is the celebration of my brother.
I am blessed to have a wonderful older brother, and, although, we are not as close in distance or relationship at this point as I would like (or as we’ve been at other times in our lives), I am happy to say he is also my friend.
And in honor of his birthday, I’m going to tell a couple of stories on myself that I think are amusing…
J’s big hobby in elementary school age and into early middle school was building model cars, airplanes, and boats. He could often be found hard at work on the bar in our basement gluing pieces together, painting the finished work, and applying decals and stickers. He worked all shapes, sizes, and types of models.
Once, when I was probably six or seven years old (possibly a bit younger), J and Daddy were working on a huge model pirate ship. If I remember correctly, it was probably a couple feet long and was amazingly detailed with fabric sails, oars and guns coming from the lower decks, and the whole pirate-y bit. They had put a ton of time and effort into this ship and were probably 90%-100% finished when “the incident” occurred.
For whatever reason, J had set the ship on the basement floor and left it there to get something from upstairs while I was still playing downstairs. I was being a typical girl and doing gymnastics or something on the furniture and was hanging upside down in Daddy’s recliner watching something on TV. I’m not sure exactly what happened, or how it happened, but the next thing I knew I was sliding off the recliner and directly on top of the pirate ship. I remember a crunching sound, the sound of J running down the stairs, and my crying as he yelled.
The ship had attained damage of the hit-by-several-cannonballs type and was totally destroyed. It was an accident, but that didn’t make it any better in the eyes of my 11-ish year old brother who had worked so hard to build that pirate ship.
And then there was the time when I was about three and I flushed J’s pet fish down the toilet. The fish lived in a bowl on our kitchen island. Apparently it was sleeping, but it looked dead to my preschool eyes. I took it to the bathroom, dumped it, and flushed. It started swimming down the drain. Oops!
It’s a wonder he still likes me. Happy birthday, brother!