But a happy one, too. My sweet little brother, the youngest one, the baby of the family, turns eighteen today.
And also, he's not little anymore. He's, like, 8' 13" or something. (Not really, but he's crazy tall.) He's towered over all 5' 2" of me for years. He drives a car now. Sometimes, he talks about girls (EEEEEEEEWWWWWWWW!!). Is a senior in high school. Went to Europe last summer. Tells me about books he's read.
None of these things are supposed to happen, because he's my little baby brother. So, to sum it up, I'm not ok with him turning eighteen today. He's a freakin' grown-up.
How is he celebrating? He and a bunch of friends are skipping school ... and going to MFAH, the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston. Which is, admittedly, a pretty cool thing to do. I kinda used to do it all the time when I was in school ... but that's a whole 'nother post.
Back to my brother. I love him to death. We're really, really close. Last night on the way home from book club, he made me laugh so hard that I couldn't breathe and had tears streaming down my face.
So happy birthday to my ginormous little brother. And no, this does NOT mean that I'm acknowledging that he could take me down. I will continue to tell him on a regular basis to watch his back, lest I decided to come and kick his ass just to take him down a notch or seven.
Cause that's what good big sisters do, right?