The lion sleeps tonight (Wimoweh. Wimoweh. Wimoweh.)
I noticed something was different last summer.
I saw the way he looked at her.
Smiled at her.
He was always on the phone, whispering and giggling and he always took those calls in another room. He started paying more attention to how he looked. Soon, his closet was full of new clothes and he became maniacal about going to the gym. Before I knew it, he was going on about what "product" he used in his hair.
It wasn't too long before they were sitting just a little too close - and in front of my parents no less!
I knew things had changed forever last weekend when my father phoned to say he and my mother were popping into Kingston for a visit. But where was my beloved brother? "He's spending the day with his girlfriend. You've been replaced! You're not his No. 1 girl anymore!" my father cackled like a lame movie villain. Think Dr. Evil from Austin Powers.
I've always had a soft spot for Ryan.
I remember when I was five years old and he was just a baby running around our house in his walker. I wanted to play with him so badly, I would tip him over and let him roam free. When we were children, we were playmates, especially at the cottage in the summertime. We went on marathon bike rides, went frog hunting and played Monopoly, Trouble and Yahtzee for hours at a time.
When we were both older, our parents stuffed us into our mini van for three-week sightseeing trips. One summer we drove to Newfoundland. The next year, we went to British Columbia. It was on one of those trips that I tormented my brother by (with) making him my backup singer. Every day, I'd make him sing The Lion Sleeps Tonight with me. But here's the catch. Because it was my song, I got to sing the melody: "In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight." And my poor brother was relegated to bass-line duty.
For hours, in his best low voice, had to repeat: "Wimoweh. Wimoweh. Wimoweh."
More than a decade later, he's still mad at me for the song torture and says I caused him emotional distress.
Just over a year ago, I went home to tell my family about my new boyfriend. He was a teeny, tiny bit older - and has two children. I thought it was the kind of news I should tell my parents in person. I decided my brother would be my barometer. I nervously explained I had something important to him and, for some reason, I was a little nervous.
Without a word of lie, this is what he said: "Oh, Sarah. As long as you're not doing something crazy like dating some 40-year-old, it'll be OK." I looked at Ryan and explained that the boyfriend was definitely not 40.
He was 45.
And then we laughed until we cried.
I know we have many more good times ahead of us but I'll tell you this. If he misses my birthday next weekend, the lion will awake.
I saw the way he looked at her.
Smiled at her.
He was always on the phone, whispering and giggling and he always took those calls in another room. He started paying more attention to how he looked. Soon, his closet was full of new clothes and he became maniacal about going to the gym. Before I knew it, he was going on about what "product" he used in his hair.
It wasn't too long before they were sitting just a little too close - and in front of my parents no less!
I knew things had changed forever last weekend when my father phoned to say he and my mother were popping into Kingston for a visit. But where was my beloved brother? "He's spending the day with his girlfriend. You've been replaced! You're not his No. 1 girl anymore!" my father cackled like a lame movie villain. Think Dr. Evil from Austin Powers.
I've always had a soft spot for Ryan.
I remember when I was five years old and he was just a baby running around our house in his walker. I wanted to play with him so badly, I would tip him over and let him roam free. When we were children, we were playmates, especially at the cottage in the summertime. We went on marathon bike rides, went frog hunting and played Monopoly, Trouble and Yahtzee for hours at a time.
When we were both older, our parents stuffed us into our mini van for three-week sightseeing trips. One summer we drove to Newfoundland. The next year, we went to British Columbia. It was on one of those trips that I tormented my brother by (with) making him my backup singer. Every day, I'd make him sing The Lion Sleeps Tonight with me. But here's the catch. Because it was my song, I got to sing the melody: "In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight." And my poor brother was relegated to bass-line duty.
For hours, in his best low voice, had to repeat: "Wimoweh. Wimoweh. Wimoweh."
More than a decade later, he's still mad at me for the song torture and says I caused him emotional distress.
Just over a year ago, I went home to tell my family about my new boyfriend. He was a teeny, tiny bit older - and has two children. I thought it was the kind of news I should tell my parents in person. I decided my brother would be my barometer. I nervously explained I had something important to him and, for some reason, I was a little nervous.
Without a word of lie, this is what he said: "Oh, Sarah. As long as you're not doing something crazy like dating some 40-year-old, it'll be OK." I looked at Ryan and explained that the boyfriend was definitely not 40.
He was 45.
And then we laughed until we cried.
I know we have many more good times ahead of us but I'll tell you this. If he misses my birthday next weekend, the lion will awake.
1 Comments:
Sounds like you really love your bro. Sweet.
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