Brother's Getting Old
|Can hardly contain the excitement|
Four score and 18 years ago (minus the four score), Shari brought forth a ginger, wrapped him in my hand-me-down blanket, and laid him in my old crib. Little baby brother Oakes had arrived and was stealing my spotlight. 18 years later and he's still cooler than me.
From the moment he was born he rained on my parade. Literally. I had the misfortune to stand at the end of the changing table during diaper switchout one time. I never made that mistake again. I've heard my exact words were, "he squirts!" Thank you little baby Taylor for being awkward from day one.
There is also several minutes of video footage of me crowding his baby seat, enthralled at his baby noises. "He squeaks!" I had that subject-verb sentence structure down.
|I die. Too cute.|
|the most precious fans they've ever had|
And I continue to be enthralled as I've watched him grow. From squeaky baby, toothless six-year old, freckled fifteen-year old (oh wait, he's still freckled), to the studly legal adult that he is today he's been an example to me, the elder sibling, in several areas of life. Probably not how it's typically supposed to work. But since when are the Arghsnows (someone spelled our name like this today. Real life.) normal?
|"it's gingerbread for my ginger!"-mom|