The big FIVE O

My brother Mike, his wife Sonya and offspring Amanda, Matthew and Becky

Today is a special anniversary . . . my only sibling’s 50th birthday. I had longed for a sibling for 13 years when we finally adopted Mike. He was and is a joy. I was so proud of my baby brother. I liked hauling him everywhere, even during the terrible twos, although I don’t remember their being so terrible. I do remember taking him with me regularly to the nearby grocery store and dime store (remember the days of “dime stores”?) on errands for our mother.

And there WERE the occasional tantrums, lying down on the floor wherever we were and refusing to budge while emitting indignant screams. Of course, that was me. Just kidding. It was Mike.

I don’t remember it bothering me. I would just pick him up in the middle of his passive-aggressive limp, dead-weight strategy. I would flop him stomach down in the crook of my left arm with his arms and feet dangling and go on about completing our mom-directed mission. I don’t think that stage lasted long, but it makes me laugh every time I think of those trips to Delchamps and Morgan and Lindsey 5 and 10.

My friends and I had outgrown dolls, and Mike became our new toy in his early years. Mother and Daddy never insisted I babysit, but watching out for my baby brother was a privilege that I relished. When God answered prayers about a sibling, his answer was better than I ever imagined. I am so thankful. Happy birthday, Liddle Brudder!