A word of warning. If you can’t understand or appreciate the joy and humor in brothers constantly tormenting each other, I suggest you go find a fluffy bunny video on YouTube to watch. Everyone else, how about some laughs today…
The other day I sneaked up behind my little brother Andy, and for no good reason smacked him across the back of the head. Immediately all the women in the house looked at me like I was the devil and my hand was made of cinderblock. I just laughed. After all, it is my duty as his older brother to surprise him like that once in awhile.
Not 20 minutes before that, my little brother Eric tried to sucker-smack me in the groin. Horrible? No… It was okay because 10 minutes before that I’d done the exact same thing to him.
Nick, yet another little brother, is also no stranger to the occasional jab, gouge, smack, or flick, and he’s dished plenty of them out himself.
In fact, not one of us are immune to receiving any number of brutalities from whomever among us happens to be dishing it out at the moment.
And it’s okay, because that kind of stuff makes us laugh. For some reason, because we’re brothers, it’s just fun. Really fun.
We give each other “purple nurples”. We attack each other with surprise snow in the face. We sneak up and pour water down each other’s backs. We jokingly trip each other, we whack each other, we humorously push each other, and we constantly find ourselves wrestling each other to the ground.
We plot, we scheme, we prank. We poke fun, we poke with sticks, and we even poke each other on Facebook.
As I think back over the span of my life, I can’t help but smile at all of the crazy things we’ve done together, my brothers and me.
We’ve all stood in near-freezing temperatures playing dodge the paintball, where we each took turns standing twenty feet in front of another guy with a paintball gun, and we didn’t get out of it until we quite literally managed to dodge a paintball.
We’ve all stood with our shirts over our heads, foreheads against the wall, receiving our losers’ reward in a game we call sting-pong. We found ourselves at that point by first having an intense, sweat inducing table tennis tournament. The winner had the honor of standing and hitting a ping pong ball into the sweaty backs of his failed opponents. Over, and over, and over, as hard as he possibly could.
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