Brothers and sisters are as close as hands and feet {Vietnamese Proverb}


Little brothers sure know how to annoy the heck out of you.  I should know, I was blessed with one at the age of 4 (that was the first time he annoyed me: no more “youngest child” status for this girl).

Sure, when Paulo was little he was pretty cute with those blue eyes and that curly hair.  But he was also loud, always tailing me, breaking my stuff – like my fancy $3 plastic necklace. (PS and then his toy dinosaur broke a leg.)  (PPS – and then Paulo and I took the dinosaur to the bathroom and got him a band-aid, and all was forgiven on both sides.)

We both grew up and fine, I’ll admit it – Paulo is goofy and almost-normal with decent taste in music, so eventually after school he moves up to Larryville where I am.  Like, into my apartment.  And it was fun and stuff but also ooooh, god – he broke half of my glassware, always ate all the Doritos, and his friend left permanent drool stains on my BRAND NEW couch when he stayed the night.  Harrumph.

(Total off-subject aside: Yes, this is a random photo of my brother with a Marshmallow Peep and a slightly drunk Michael Waltrip. It’s awesome, so it’s here.)

Anyway. Where was I? Oh yes. Several months later he got his own place, one block from me.  We still hung out quite a bit, despite his destructive tendencies – he and Scottie were close by this point too.  We’d all go downtown, watch ballgames together; Scott and I would stop by occasionally just to say “hi” and Paulo would come over to do his laundry.  He’d also let me come over and scope out his cellar when the tornado sirens went off. 

Don’t get me wrong, he’d still find ways to ruin everything – hey Paulie, remember that time that KU made it to the championship game in 2003 and we were going to celebrate afterwards?  Except you tripped over the curb and sprained your ankle so we had to help you hobble back to the apartment and that was officially the end of the evening?  Remember that?  Yeah.

Years later, he moved to KC.  Closer to his work, better than commuting, I get it.  So we didn’t see him quite as much, but still fit in time together – it’s a whopping 30 minutes away, I mean come on.  We stop by when we’re in his neck of the woods; he comes over to Lawrence to babysit for us or to see concerts or occasionally he just stops in to annoy his dear old sister.  We still have our annual Super Bowl parties together.  Does he still find ways to bother the crap out of me?  Oh yes, that’s a given.  He still randomly screams “NEMMEH!” at me in that weird voice and jabs me in the sides just KNOWING it drives me up the wall.  But whatever, little brothers were made to be annoying I guess.

Now he is moving again, this time not into my place or just down the street, oh no – he’s moving approximately 2,000 miles from here, new position for work.  Fancy Shmancy Mr. Paulo-Pants.  And so goes the only family nearby, my P-Pie.Scottie’s buddy and Doots’ kindred spirit. Also: no more free babysitting.  Drats.  So last night we ran over to KC to check out the moving van and make fun of his choice of road trip snacks. We chatted and Peter chased his poor long-suffering cats around, and finally did the inevitable – hugged and said our “good-bye”s and that was that.    I gave him a dinosaur with a busted leg to remember me by, hopefully the dumb kid still texts me every once in awhile. And with that I guess he’s gone? Really totally gone, not coming over to bug me to death as usual?

Whatever. I am confident that this is yet another stunt in an attempt to annoy the heck out of me.


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