Baby Bro Post Number I-forgot-which-number-I-think-3-but-I’m-not-sure

And I can’t be bothered to go back and check either.
I had a nice day with BOB today, in a very long time. He’s been less and less cute lately, and I’ve been having to remind myself time and time again of the ancient times when he was literally just a bundle of joy. He would just waddle around and exist purely for the benefit of our joy and entertainment. That was then. This is now. And he’s learned quite a few tricks. Lemme tell you something; when a baby learns how to do something for the first time everyone’s all like ‘aww’, but then later when said baby perfects the art of that trick and uses it to his benefit (ie, against YOU) it’s NOT so cute anymore. The realization of the real significance of the action sets in and you mentally prepare yourself of hard times to come, until he grows old enough to understand WHY said action is not cool, or he just learns something more devilish to replace it with. The first time is always deceptively innocent.
The first time he throws a projectile: “Whoa! He’s so athletic!”
First time he aims for your face: “Holy ****, DUCK! Will we have to walk around with armor now?”
Similarly, the first time he says a word: “He’s so smart! OMG, one day he’ll be able to TALK for himself! Eeeee!”.
First time he talks back to you: “Dang, I wish the good ol’ times would return when he just said cute Turkish-sounding gibberish.”

I think you get the picture. He’s been hitting my 2nd youngest brother a lot and he’s completely immune to any form of manipulation. And he needs attention, or he’ll destroy everything in sight to get said attention. He wont let you talk on skype, and hogs the camera and mic. And then he’ll act like a right lil angel in front of your friends and make a liar out of you.

God, I’m defaming my own lil brother. On to the cute stuff!

Today I was feeling really cold indoors. (first day of my period) so my whole body was aching. I felt like what an old person with rheumatism must feel like. Anyways, sitting in a warm place helps ease the pain so I sat outside, in the porch area of my backyard. I took BOB with me, because I thought a change of atmosphere would do him good. I’m sure part of the reason he does destructive stuff is boredom and the fact that he’s cooped up inside all the time. Anyways, I go out and sit with him, side by side. We just sit there and take in the weather, the cool breeze on our faces, and the sound of invisible birds chirping from the nearby tree. We just sat there for who knows how long, in companionable silence. It was SO NICE! I looked at him and smiled, he smiled back and looked up at the sky. then we played with some of his yard toys. There’s this toy that we bought (I swear there is no other toy that better suits my brother) that you basically just hit. Hitting the top part causes the insides to spin; the harder you hit it, the faster it’ll spin. And that thing can take a beating. I’m surprised it hasn’t been blown to pieces, because BOB has thrown it onto hard pavement many many times. Anyways, we sit facing each other and take turns hitting it, until the colorful thingamajigs in it were a blur. He laughed. There was no ulterior motive to his laugh, no wild cackle of mischief, nothing. Just us playing. Then I asked him how he rides his red car-type-thing, and he showed me. Then (I swear my baby bro has such a funny sense of humor) he asked me to sit on his rubber horsey, just to see if bog ol’ me would. We spent a lot of time outside, by the end of which I felt healed. LOL. It was nice.

Second story, and this is more funny than cute. I don’t think BOB has separated talking form thinking, because he says, or sings, everything that’s on his mind. My closet has a sliding door to it, and it’s quite big. Big enough for my clothes hanger to be inside. Usually I reach in and hang thing on the pegs but this time I had a lot of stuff so I pushed the hanging clothes back and stood completely inside the closet. I hear BOB singing to himself outside. I don’t pay attention. His voice grows louder and it starts getting darker. I realize someone’s sliding the door closed. I cock my head to the side and listen to what he’s whispering in a singsong voice.

“Baji ko band karo, Baji ko band karo, Baji ko band karo”
Meaning: Close Baji in, close her in, close her in.

I cracked up laughing as I was engulfed in darkness. I heard him laugh at his cunning from outside. I slid the door back open easily.

Last story: I swear he reminds me of myself when I was a in my early teens. He treats his color-changing-with-temperature die cast metal car exactly the way I used to treat my first mood ring. I still remember how the color changing ring used to seem like the coolest thing ever and, like a retard, I’d put it in and take it out of the freezer a million times a day.  I’d literally go all gaga all over it. Every time I’d take it  out I’d show it to everyone in the vicinity,” look! It’s CHANGING. Isn’t it the coolest this EVARRR??” Anyways, that was me at 13. BOB has a tiny car that changes color similarly. When in the freezer it turns blue, and when out it melts to yellow. He LOVES that car. He doesn’t go showing it off like a retard like me, oh no, he’s got more class than that. He just minds his own business, opens the freezer door like it’s his, pops it in, closes the door and leaves, singing to himself as he goes on his dandy way. Comes back later, still humming to himself, opens the door, and takes it out and leaves. I’m just standing there watching in amusement. He takes the car and rubs it against his face or anyone’s’ face who happens to be within reach. We humor him. “oh yes, it’s cold”He accepts our acknowledgement of the fact and licks the car till no sign of blue is left. Sometimes he only thaws it by licking like it’s his personalized ice cube. I do not bother stopping him, because I know it would be pretty much useless and it’s not really dirty. Oh and by the way, we have a double-door fridge, which is why he can open it.

I’m all typed out for the moment, and just in time too, since that was the end of the required third story. Comment telling me how this post was (no pressure). I typed it in like 15 minutes. lol.


About thejawavillager

I am a mad scientist with an underground lab rivaling Dexter's that I will soon use to rule the world. Join my army or be killed in the aftermath.
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4 Responses to Baby Bro Post Number I-forgot-which-number-I-think-3-but-I’m-not-sure

  1. MadDino says:

    I love BOB! Or your BOB posts! Go BOB!

  2. Jo says:

    My own baby brother was 11 years younger than me. I thought he was perfect, and I spent hours oohing and aahing over all his cute antics. Now he’s almost 40, 6 feet tall, 210lbs, with a full beard and a booming voice…but I still only see my adorable baby brother and his beautiful smile. We are lucky – he still gives as many hugs and kisses as he did when he was a toddler! So thank you for sharing your BOB, because I get that cute image, and then I get to remember all my own, too.

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