Birthday Boy

I found that I have no desire to make fun of my brother for getting older, like I do with so many others. It's different when the person is younger than you; you can't help but think, if he's already this old, then I'm. . . eek. It just doesn't end well.

But all of that doesn't mean I can't pull out old pictures to make fun of him for other reasons. Sure, he's a tall, hairy, twenty something that knocks people over whenever he pats them on the back, but for some reason I have him stuck in my head as an 8 year old. He may forever be that obnoxious little brother that always put the cats' lives in danger and wouldn't stop getting into trouble. However, there was much to learn from it.

There was that time he threw the kitten in the well and dad was all "Hmm, yeah, it's not going to make it. Did your mother make dinner?" It taught us that we must always go to mom if we want help fishing kittens out of wells. How else would we have learned that? Also, I never would have known that you could twirl a cat through the air like a lasso by holding onto its tail. Silly me, I always thought cats were for petting.



Dad would teach us that if you mess with the farm equipment you won't live to tell about it; but with a little brother you learn that you can flip a three wheeler, run a semi into a grain bin, and drive a truck into a barn (that's housing your dad's beloved sports car) and live to tell about it. Of course, you may not be able to talk about it while sitting, but you'll be able to talk about it.




It didn't take him long to teach us that, in his mind, pants are optional. Also, see all that grass? It doubles as a bathroom.

These are life lessons, people.

Happy Birthday Morgan