Posts Tagged Under brothers
Oh Brother!
Brothers playing Legos
Maybe it’s a New York thing, but I am cynical by nature. Even though I expect the worst, in order to avoid being disappointed, unfortunately it more often means that I am guaranteed a negative outcome. My husband is the original Mr. Happy-go-lucky, taking the bad with a grain of salt and focusing on the positive in every situation. He always looks on the bright side. I hate it when he does that!
My eight-year-old son Eric is more like his dad. It is all good. If play dates get canceled he is the first to suggest an alternative plan. If a movie is sold out he will suggest a day at the park.
“Dat’s okay, we can do sumfing better!”
However, my eleven-year-old son Paul has inherited my pessimistic nature. Forget the glass being half full or half empty; Paul’s is the wrong glass because Eric must have gotten the “better” glass. Continue… »
By Cathy BurkeOne Son Is a Talker, The Other Not
My son, Eric, is not a big talker. This came as a complete shock to me since I come from a long line of talkers. It seems like all my friends and family members love to talk (often at the same time).
My older son, Paul, began talking early and often and has basically never stopped. So, when my second son came along I just figured he would speak up, but that was not the case. First of all , I could barely hear him over his older brother’s constant demands for my (waning) attention.
While I had hung on Paul’s every word (and before that, everything resembling a word) I had a hard time really listening to poor little Eric. I am sad to say his needs were constantly unheard. While I would have pulled off the road to nurse my crying first-born it was not uncommon to wake my second son from a much-needed nap in order to do school pick-up.
By Cathy BurkeWorship
My son, who is 5, FIVE, cinco, not 4, and “not a baby, Mommy!” just found out that my half-brother, who is 17, SEVENTEEN, definitely not sweet 16, and “almost in college, Mom!” is coming to visit this week.
Let the worship begin!
In my son’s eyes, my younger brother is a walking god. A mystical man whose feet barely touch the floor. Who’s much cooler than Dora’s cousin Diego and even Barry Bonds (whose alleged transgressions we haven’t broken to him yet.) And, of course, he’s much, much better at everything than anyone else (except maybe Daddy, but we can’t really go there).
By Annie YearoutBig Bad Wolf
The big bad wolf’s name is Schizophrenia. I know this because he tried to gobble up my older brother when he was just 14 young years old. Not in one gulp, but in an erratic pattern of gnawing and howling, followed by moments of satiation we could describe as calm (or at least calmer).
That wolf wreaked havoc on our family. When he was around he was just plain scary. And annoying. Being a kid I wanted to blame my brother for becoming a wolf, though he hadn’t and I knew that, too. Sometimes it was hard to tell by his actions whether it was the wolf’s fault or my brother’s or a combination of the two. How could he not take on wolf characteristics with that darn creature trying to invade him?
In 5th grade I made the mistake of confiding in a best friend about the big bad wolf. I felt incredible relief and trust. The next day on the playground while waiting in line for four square another girl called out, “Your brother is RETARDED.” Real loud. I was tempted to correct her and tell her to blame the blasted wolf but what did she know?
By Maija Threlkeld
