Wednesday, May 24, 2017


When I was a little girl, I had the romantic idea of always wanting an older brother. 
My dad's antics as told from my Grandma's mouth might have made a little girl rethink her getting his sister to wash all of his heavy, wool, work socks by hand one summer because she thought he knew what she had done.
She had done something, but he was unaware. 
Or the time during his sister's slumber party, that he gathered and my grandma sewed all of the pajama legs closed and then locked them upstairs.
Or the time he riled up his nieces and nephews at the holiday dinner table when they had been told to be on their best behavior and his sister hit him over the head with the gravy ladle.
Yup...good times with a big brother.
Well, I didn't receive a big brother, but our girls did.
He irritates them as much as my Dad irritated his sister, but in the end, they know he's got their back.

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