My Dearest Baby Brother.,, :P posted 12/28/2010 7:00:27 PM | 3 kudos what's this?     report abuse

theSkwirl

I was 8 years old when my baby Brother was born. That's a

long time with no siblings. I remember being really

annoyed when my Gramma came in and told me that I had a

little Brother. I didn't want a little Brother, I wanted a

Sister and I told her so. She told me that was too bad

because I had one.

I remember the first time I saw him. I thought he was a

little Indian baby because his skin was all red and his

hair was black. Plus, he was having a raucous war cry

thing going on at the time. I was singularly unimpressed.

I thought we should have been able to trade him in for a

pink and white blond baby. But no, t'was not to be. She

brought him home anyway.

Being 8, I didn't want much to do with a baby. You

couldn't really play with him. He didn't like any of the

games I liked. He was almost as big as me, (I was very

little) but he wasn't at all able to run or play. Imagine

that? All he did was lie there, eat, scream and poop.

Babies were not much good for anything at all; as far as I

could tell.

Once he did learn to walk and talk, I kinda grew to like

the little tyrant. A little bit, anyway. I remember being

at Summer Camp and getting a letter from Mom with the last

line saying that he misses his "big stister". I cried.

First time I'd ever been homesick and I'd been to camp

every year since first grade!

We'll talk about Jesus Camp in another blog. That's all I

have to say about that.

My Brother, like all males, had a fascination with his "pee

thing". He always had hold of that thing, it seems like.

Plus, he was a little jerk with it. He'd been taught to

pee on the tires as a way of potty training him but did he

restrict that action merely to tires? Oh NOOOO. Not my

Brother.

One day, our Cousin was up to play, and a friend of his

came up too. I didn't care much for the friend because he

was one of those boys who picked on girls. Imagine that

boy telling me I couldn't be Geronimo in our game of

Cowboys and Indians? "You're a girl. All girls can do is

cook dinner for us Cowboys." WTF? Anyway.. one time only

I was ever kinda grateful for my Bro's proclivity for

peeing on things. He chased that kid all the way to the

bottom gate (about 4 acres) peeing on him every step of the

way! I laughed so hard. We didn't rat him out to Mom

either.. because the kid had it coming.

It was a whole nother matter when, at our Grandparents'

house, he peed down the back of my neck when I was hiding

from our Cousin. That was a tragedy! I couldn't kill him

either. Mom said so.

I think he was about three when he locked Mom into the

"Thunder Shed", see also, outhouse. Our outhouse was

nothing but utilitarian. it wasn't pretty, no fancy bits,

just four walls, a roof, a double holer and a door with

leather to hook over a nail to keep it shut on both sides

of the door. My Bro was just barely big enough to reach

those bits of leather and he managed to lock Mom inside.

Then he went into the basement, which was Papa's domain and

started sing songing, "I locked Mama in the Out Houuuuse."

To which Dad paid his usual no attention. This went on for

an hour or more til Mom finally got loose. Whooo Man was

she pissed! I didn't know who was going to die first! My

little Bro for having locked her in, or Dad for not paying

attention to him when he was singing about it. All I knew

was that I had better be scarce. So I was. All I heard

after the first screams was Dad saying, "Now Mama, you

can't kill him, he's just a baby." (How often did I hear

that about my little Brother? More than twice.)

My bro was useful when we built our teepees out of old

table cloths and sticks in the front of the house. We'd

dress him up in old Dirndle skirts and make him be the

girl. Sometimes we'd play Gypsy and same thing, he had to

be the little girl. If he has any strange proclivities to

this day it would not be too much of a surprise.

As he grew older, my Bro became a bit of a mad scientist.

It all started when the 'Rents bought him an electronics

kit and a science kit. The science kit was kinda fun, the

most harmful thing he did was make red baking soda lava

flow out of the test tubes. But that electronics kit?

That thing was a terror! The very first thing he built

was a motion activated alarm that meowed like a cat in

heat. After that he figured out how to 'hot wire' his

door knob and a few other really irritating and or painful

things.

Later, Dad, in his infinate wisdom, bought him a Bangsite

Cannon. Bangsite is explosive. It goes boom. My Bro,

being the wizard that he is.. decides one day when Mom

isn't home that he's going to clean the fireplace chimney.

He fills a 1 lb coffee can half full of Bangsite, puts the

plastic lid on it, pokes a hole for a fuse, drops a fuse in

it. lights the fuse and puts it in the fireplace... and

waits. A few seconds later there was an enormous

""BAAAAANG""! Darned if he didn't clean the chimney. But

what to do about all the soot all over the living room?

Oh man, I knew we were fixing to die when Mom got home.

So, I, being ingeneous in my own right, tip him up on my

shoulders with his feet on the ceiling and he walks the

ceiling cleaning all the soot out of the fabulous textured

crap that Dad spent so many hours putting up. (I hate that

stuff) and we did a pretty good job, so we thought. Til

Mom got home. The rest of the room looked pretty good but

when she looked up.. there were a row of footprints, that

to my knowledge still exist on the ceiling. I don't

remember how old we were when I finally told her how that

happened. I do know it was far beyond 'hide tanning" age

though.


The little jerk was constantly getting me in trouble too!

Like I needed any help? We'd be on opposite sides of our

65 acre homestead and he'd fall down and go running to Mom

with, "Look what Sister made me do!" I'd be in trouble for

having pushed him or whatever it was he'd said I'd done. I

had to put this in here because it leaves me some breathing

room for forgiveness for the evil I did later.

Neither my little Bro nor our Cousin were very bright. Ok

they were both smart as heck. Lil Bro tested as a genius,

but not a lick of sense between em. I'm reminded of a

saying that Frances, the blind lady I worked for from the

time I was twelve, used to say. "You got one boy, you've

got a boy, you got two boys, you've got half a boy, you've

got three boys, you've got no boy at all." Yeah, it took

me a long time to figure it out too. Basically, if there's

two of them they only have ha

Copy & paste to friend: (Click inside box; Ctrl + C to copy; Ctrl + V to paste)

Blogs by theSkwirl: It's Been a While ... Mondays... you never know what a Skwirl might do... Idiots, Idioms and Idiosyncrasies. Dearly Beloved; Farewell to Chuck, our Night of Old. In Like a Lion Another story.. good times. What kind of Vert are you? A very insightful poem Here We Go Again...I've been thinking. still kickin Not gonna be around much Genesis, the True Story by the Skwirl My Dearest Baby Brother.,, :P Merry Christmas and Harpy Nude Rear The Case of the Ancient Arm Eater Taz: the little ball of fluff that could. (another pet story) A Charley Horse! (a pet blog) I Sold My Soul To Dr. Seuss Two things.. a thank you and a story. The Infamous Carrot Fiasco, and other stories Lessons Learned (yeah another remeniscence) Crocus for Grandma It's A Hard Candy Christmas Usually... The Further Adventures of the Skwirl Vs. the Big Conglomerate