Nope, it’s my oldest brother, who just found out his girlfriend is pregnant. They are excited about it, but no one is more elated than my mother, who believes half the state of Texas should be populated with grandbabies for her to spoil, the more the merrier, and no, I’ve been informed that my cats don’t really count.
My oldest brother and I have always had a very volatile, explosive relationship, talking calmly one minute and then suddenly toe-to-toe, in each other’s face, the next, and I have carefully analyzed the situation to draw this painstaking conclusion: it’s all his fault!
How strange to ponder: the same boy who chased me around the backyard with dog shit on the end of a stick, the same boy who screamed at me to turn down “Pour Some Sugar On Me” during my Def Leppard infatuation, the same boy who made it nearly impossible to date in high school because he’d glance disdainfully at my latest love interest and announce loudly and contemptuously, “I don’t like this guy. You can do better than him“, the same boy who impatiently explained to me again that basketball is not a sport in which we tackle when I attempted to play “no-blood-no-foul” on the girls’ middle school team…this same boy is now going to be a dad?
He’s infuriating and maddening. He’s stubborn and hard-headed. He’s always right, he’s arrogant, he’s obnoxious.
He’s also going to make a great, albeit non-traditional, father, and I’m already chuckling at who is going to have it rougher: him or the new daughter or son who comes along to wrap him around a tiny, baby-sized finger.
All I know for sure is, I have photographic evidence to embarrass the hell out of my brother when their son or daughter is old enough to point at pictures, laugh hysterically, and howl, “Is that YOU, Dad?” when Aunt Smirking Cat comes ’round.
*Image courtesy of HealthinAction.org*