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Home » 9to5to9, The adventures of Big Guy and Boots

He ain’t heavy. He’s my budder

Submitted by on Sunday, 1 June 2008 No Comment
Originally published Nov. 14, 2007, thehive.modbee.com

The second we found out Little Guy was a guy, I steeled myself for sibling rivalry of epic proportions.

In this corner, Big Guy: As the oldest son of an only son and the oldest grandson, he holds a hallowed position in the paternal side’s pecking order. The world had been his for almost two years, until along came …

Little Guy: Despite his early laid-back attitude, he’d have to be robotic not to start giving it back to his brother.

And so it devolved to this:

Big Guy developing an immediate and intense interest in any toy Little Guy had and grabbing it, just because he had the size advantage and could.

Little Guy sauntering up and thumping Big Guy on the back, just because he was occupying space.

Mom, Little Guy’s being rude.

Mom, budder uggy.

But then there are times when I can almost believe that when I die, they won’t beat each other to bloody pulps over the jewelry and china. When you’re 10 years older than dirt when you start having kids, you worry about these things. They probably won’t be even the age I am now when I check out. I don’t want them to be alone.

Today, I’m convinced they won’t be.

Big Guy had a doctor’s appointment right after lunch, and I’d intended to take them both. When I was able to sneak into Big Guy’s class without Little Guy spotting me, though, I slithered out the door with only one kid.

I thought Little Guy was going, Big Guy said.

He was, but he needs a nap more than he needs to wait for hours at the doctor’s office.

Won’t he be sad if I’m not there?

Maybe a little, but he’ll be a grump if he’s tired.

My prediction of hours at the doctor’s office was close to the mark. Fortunately, our pediatrician is at Sutter Gould, currently home of the biggest crane Big Guy has seen up close in his life. He was so fascinated he forgot to complain about the exam until someone said “flu shot.”

As a consolation, we stopped on the way out to watch the fascinating crane hoist framework for the new clinic.

“Mom, brother would really like this,” Big Guy said. “He’s sad at school. Let’s get him.”

Fast-forward a few hours, to when Big Guy and Dad take off to do important stuff Little Guy can’t do because he’s 2 and throws fits.

Thomas kept Little Guy occupied for about a half hour. Then he started running to the front window every 10 minutes of so.

“Where budder? Want budder. Budder, come home.”

And he said it, not in the belligerent foot-stomping way he’s adopted lately when vexed, but forlornly. Like he was missing his best friend.

Ye Gods! Could it be they … like each other?

Finally, Big Guy did come home. Little Guy rushed to the door and embraced him as if they’d been apart for months.

I’m sure that by early tomorrow, they’ll be back to the usual rough and tumble, bicker and gripe.

But that’s OK. I know how they really feel.

Copyright 2007 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.

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