The picture says it all.
One brother feels pretty darn smug that for the next six days he looks as though he’s three years older than his brother. You see, BigBrother turned ten yesterday. LittleBrother won’t turn eight until the 24th, one week after his older brother’s birthday. As such, for seven days, the boys are ages 10 and 7.
One brother doesn’t find this as amusing, you see.
I personally love this. For six days each year, my brother is only seven years younger than me. And for 18 days each year, I’m two years older than my husband instead of just one. I think things like this are just fun and fascinating.
Something tells me LittleBrother will find this more amusing as the years go by.
Last year, LittleBrother asked to be Link from the Legend of Zelda. You know, the Legend of Zelda. The boys fell in love with the series of games last year. However, despite releasing a number of new games over the years, we couldn’t find a mass-produced Link costume last year. I would have had to make it on my own (uh, no) or pay the Big Bucks on Etsy (I considered it).
This year, as I scrolled along on the “it’s your last chance to get a costume by Halloween” sale on Zulily, would you believe they had a Link costume? And wig?
LittleBrother asked for it, and I tossed it in my cart.
I kept scrolling. BigBrother hadn’t really nailed down a costume idea just yet, so I tossed out a few as I scrolled. As I hit on Harry Potter, his eyes lit up.
“Oh, that might be fun. I could wear glasses, too!”
I kept scrolling. He kept talking about Harry Potter.
Maybe I should have stopped.
But I came upon a Spider-Man costume which was reversible into a Venom costume. BigBrother was looking over my shoulder, talking into my ear, when he paused and audibly gasped. I stopped scrolling.
“Well, Mom. I can be Harry Pottery if you want me to.” He always wants to please me. I told him he could have until the end of the day to make a decision, but that it was entirely up to him. He obviously chose Spider-Man -slash- Venom.
And I have two very happy little boys on my hands. Winning.
For the first time in three years, I turned the corner in between miles seven and eight… and my sons weren’t standing alongside the road, cheering me on. Due to a number of issues, the boys stayed at The Farm during the race. Actually, no family members came to cheer us on this time around, which we knew about in advance…
…but, goodness, I missed their big smiles and little (but mighty) voices.
It made me feel kinda lonesome out there on the road. You know, with 19,000 other runners and even more spectators. But still. There’s something about seeing your kids during a race that gives you a second (or third or twelfth) wind.
We met at a diner to pick them up later on Sunday evening. As they climbed over each other to get out of their grandparents’ vehicle, the first words out of their mouths were, “You did a good job on your race!” They each asked pertinent questions, asked how we felt, and offered massages the next day.
Having them show an interest in our running after the fact, when they didn’t have to be dragged along the course, almost felt as good as seeing their little faces along the course. Almost. They also told me all about the Steelers’ win, including some commentary on quarterbacks which I can only guess they would attribute to their grandfather.