Being married to the brother of a blogger, sometimes I have the rare opportunity of reading a story and then hearing it told from a different perspective. My SIL, Red, offered her version of the memorable St. Nicholas Day that her "little" brother was born. My husband verifies that her story and reaction is true, although it was not his reaction. Apparently, a new baby brother is not as exciting as a candy bar to a 3 year old boy.
But here's the rest of the story... that baby boy was the second boy child born which gave my husband a little leg up on the triple dose of estrogen towering over him. That baby boy became his faithful companion, his new roommate, and his friend. Many hours were spent by those boys shooting hoops, riding bikes, playing catch and breaking lamps.
I recently had the privilege of watching those two boys, now full-grown men with families of their own, toss a football around the back yard while the two younger brothers who eventually came along tried to steal the ball away. The younger brothers were amazed at how with a silent beckon, the older brothers instinctively knew where the other would throw the ball and would catch it with flawless motion. They knew each others thoughts and strengths so well that not a word needed to be spoken to connect the pass. This was their ritual from the past; one that will never be forgotten.
I know my husband wouldn't trade that for a candy bar.
Happy St. Nicholas Day!