Our first meeting
Thirty three years ago and five thousand miles away from here you came into my life and changed everything.
I was not. happy. about. it.
Apparently, I had been enjoying being an only child and did not take kindly to your messing everything up.
[Mom told me she would only let me "help" bathe you by washing your feet because she was worried that otherwise I'd hit or pinch you in some super sensitive area.]
Do we have to keep him?
It quickly became apparent, though, that I was lucky to have you in an otherwise adult-only family population.
With you, I doubled my birthday-cake intake each year. Even if you did mangle it with your whole body first.
And I had a fellow fashion victim to commiserate with when we were forced out in to public.
Plus, I had someone with whom to survive many, many awkward family photos.
And thank God I wasn't the only band geek in the family.
[Oh wait, I forgot. It's in our genes.]
Good Ol' Dad
Luckily, you inherited much more than our family trait of geekiness, and I'm jealous when I see how you've managed to break the curse of awkward photogenics:
Somehow you managed to survive a big sister who perpetually teased you, mocked you, and pulled your eyelids open when you were sleeping in the back seat on every family car trip we ever took.
That's a testament to your strength, infinite patience, and ability to take everything in stride.
Your bride is a lucky woman to have you in her life.
And so am I.
Your Big Bad Sis