Guess what? Today is Bob Day!! I never knew such a day existed (and I’m pretty sure not many other people did, either). According to my little google search, Bob Day is celebrated every May 26th in honor of “ok guys.” Well, then! I happen to have a brother named Bob and I think he is MORE than just “ok!” In fact, I am actually quite insulted that the name Bob automatically refers to just an “ok guy.” So therefore, I am officially changing Bob Day on this blogsite to honor my brother Bob.
Let me tell you a little about Bob… He is my brother. (Ok, you already knew that) But did you know he is my younger brother? Nope, I bet not many of you did. In fact, since I am so much more youthful in heart and mind, many people assume he is my older brother. Or maybe they just assume that because he is like a foot taller than me (and I’m kinda tall myself) and just a tad bit more mature (Personally, I find maturity to be overrated). Actually, Bob kind of pulls double duty in the brother department, since he is my one and only sibling, he definitely ACTS like an older brother. Which, to be honest, I kind of think is cool, even as an old lady in my 30s.
When Bob and I were younger, things were great. Since back then he was still smaller than me, I pretty much got to bully him around a lot. We had a relative that was a teacher, and she used to give us old textbooks and workbooks. I thought this was great, because I loved to play school, and Bob was always the willing student. My role as the teacher basically involved giving him the workbooks and telling him “DO THIS!!” Bob was a good sport, though, and just look how intelligent he is today!! (All thanks to me, of course!) I also used to wrap his arm in a few rolls of toilet paper, tape his arm to his shirt, and tell him his arm was broken. This was always fun, watching him try not to move his arm, until our mom would overrule physician's orders and make him take it off. Bob was the kind of fun younger brother every big sister loved to have, because he pretty much did what I said. Until he started getting older, and began really thinking for himself.
This was a bummer time for me. My baby brother wouldn't listen to me any more, and was turning into the perfect child and making me look bad. He was very athletic (still is - check out Speaker City Softball!) and smart and never got in trouble. My mom says the only reason I got into more trouble was because I had a habit of telling my parents more than they needed to know, while Bob, on the other hand, never offered up any information unless practically tortured - and then he only gave up the bare minimum (a practice that continues to this day). Eventually we both made it through our high school years and into college. By this time, we were beginning to get closer.
I think I began to realize just how cool my brother Bob was when he played the overprotective brother role and began threatening the jerks I seemed to be attracted to. I realized he was human and just as fallible as myself because of the hackey sack incident (which was funny as hell, but I can't go into on a public board, for Bob's sake). I realized how stupid he was when he got his tattoo the size of his calf the night before Easter Sunday. But throughout all those times, I also realized how much I loved him.
Now, this is not a sappy blog, so we aren't even going to go there. But being Bob Day and all, I just had an uncontrollable urge to "honor" the Bob in my life. (Even if he is a big dork who can sit playing Sonic for hours on end with his niece if left unattended. ) Now that he is married (to a woman who is the perfect compliment to him and whom I love dearly!!) I can only hope that when he has kids of his own, his son will be as awesome a brother to his daughter as he was (and is) to me. But I'm sure if he teaches him well, he will be. Only don't name him "Bob." I can only deal with one in the family.
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