A Holiday Apology to my Brother Adam
One Christmas, many years ago back in the late 70’s, my grandparents from Colorado came to visit us for a week over the holiday break. I was about 9 at the time. It was Christmas morning and we had all opened our gifts, had breakfast, and were just relaxing in the living room going through our new toys and presents. My brother Adam, a year older, had gone upstairs for about 30 minutes and came down dressed as Santa Claus wearing his red bathroom stuffed with newspaper for a belly. He has fashioned a white beard out of cotton balls and was walking around to everyone saying “Merry Christmas!!!” It was really cute and he did such a good job until I started getting antsy.
Feeling left out of the limelight (imagine that), I got up from my seat on the couch and much to everyone’s dismay, tore off his cotton beard while yelling dramatically, “YOU’RE NOT SANTA! YOU’RE AN IMPOSTER!” and effectively ruined his holiday show. Santa Adam, started crying and ran up to his room screaming, “You’ve ruined EVERYTHING!”
And I did. And now, I am formally and publicly issuing an apology for my immature horrible attention seeking behavior. I was extremely jealous of my brother’s spotlight and wanted the attention back on myself. Well I got it, and got the wrath of my parents, grandparents, and sister on top of it. So Adam … I am sorry for ripping off your extra large cotton ball beard and ruining your Santa impression. I hope your little brother has not scarred you emotionally.
I guess I should also apologize for accidently spraying my brother in the face with Windex while washing the car and accidently clocking my brother in the nose with a snow shovel while shoveling my other grandparents driveway. They were honestly and truly accidents. Nevertheless, I still feel bad for all of that.
But I do not feel bad or apologize for any of the drooling, punching, pinching, kicking in the shins, mutual noogies, wedgies, wet willies, la-la’s, hitting and or scratching of arms. They were not accidents and just me being a spoiled pain the ass little brother. No guilt there! And in my defense, my brother did the same to me on a regular basis minus the pinching, scratching, and kicking in the shins.
Adam also had on occasion, harassed and beat me up (as big brothers do), locked me in a cubby hole under the stairs, locked me in the dusty attic which aggravated my allergies, left me hanging upside down on my grandparents backyard fence after I had fallen from it and my pants got caught at the top, encouraged me to jump from the top of the house stairs (about 12 of them) when I had dreamt that I could to it, put me into the toy chest and sat on it so I couldn’t get out, and prevented me from joining he and my sister’s fort on the top bunk bed time and time again, effectively shutting me out from their fun.
So anyway, where was I … oh yes, sorry Adam! Love ya bro!
Feeling left out of the limelight (imagine that), I got up from my seat on the couch and much to everyone’s dismay, tore off his cotton beard while yelling dramatically, “YOU’RE NOT SANTA! YOU’RE AN IMPOSTER!” and effectively ruined his holiday show. Santa Adam, started crying and ran up to his room screaming, “You’ve ruined EVERYTHING!”
And I did. And now, I am formally and publicly issuing an apology for my immature horrible attention seeking behavior. I was extremely jealous of my brother’s spotlight and wanted the attention back on myself. Well I got it, and got the wrath of my parents, grandparents, and sister on top of it. So Adam … I am sorry for ripping off your extra large cotton ball beard and ruining your Santa impression. I hope your little brother has not scarred you emotionally.
I guess I should also apologize for accidently spraying my brother in the face with Windex while washing the car and accidently clocking my brother in the nose with a snow shovel while shoveling my other grandparents driveway. They were honestly and truly accidents. Nevertheless, I still feel bad for all of that.
But I do not feel bad or apologize for any of the drooling, punching, pinching, kicking in the shins, mutual noogies, wedgies, wet willies, la-la’s, hitting and or scratching of arms. They were not accidents and just me being a spoiled pain the ass little brother. No guilt there! And in my defense, my brother did the same to me on a regular basis minus the pinching, scratching, and kicking in the shins.
Adam also had on occasion, harassed and beat me up (as big brothers do), locked me in a cubby hole under the stairs, locked me in the dusty attic which aggravated my allergies, left me hanging upside down on my grandparents backyard fence after I had fallen from it and my pants got caught at the top, encouraged me to jump from the top of the house stairs (about 12 of them) when I had dreamt that I could to it, put me into the toy chest and sat on it so I couldn’t get out, and prevented me from joining he and my sister’s fort on the top bunk bed time and time again, effectively shutting me out from their fun.
So anyway, where was I … oh yes, sorry Adam! Love ya bro!
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