This is my brother, Eric, who from here on out will only be referred to as Pickle. That's the name I saddled him with when we were teenagers. Don't ask why, it's a convoluted and senseless tale.
My youngest is sitting next to him, and that's Pickle's baby begging to be picked up.
I like this picture of Pickle because he has the baby bottle in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. Like he can't make up his mind what exactly he wants to drink.
Go for the milk bro.' You need all your brain cells. Trust me.
I kid. He's my brother though, so I'm supposed to harass him. I never miss an opportunity to do my duty as the evil older sister.
When I went out to California to visit last summer, I implemented a plan that I hatched a couple months previously. A plan that would, very possibly, cause my poor tortured brother to have an aneurysm.
Before I share that with you though, I need to tell you a little bit about Pickle.
Pickle is a Manly Man. Or at least he thinks he is.
He's about 5'10" or maybe 5'11." He's not short, but he's not tall either.
My mom, sister and I like to tease him about having a short man complex because every single vehicle that he has owned since 1988 has been a ginormous, gas guzzling, four-wheel-with-a-lift-kit behemoth. It's kinda sad, but he looks like Mr. Bill when he's behind the wheel.
Pickle is also a bit of a male chauvinist pig. Furthermore, he has veeeeeeery rigid ideas about gender roles. He has two little boys who are not allowed to play with dolls. At all. They cannot even be in the same room with them.
Just for fun, my mom got Pickle's boys a play vacuum cleaner for Christmas. Pickle about blew a gasket and refused to take it home with him.
That's okay, my mom babysits for free and they do lots o' vacuumin' at Grandma's.
Seriously, how could I not toy with my brother's fragile psyche when he leaves me such opportunities?
Can you blame me?
Hee, hee, hee. I just can't stop giggling because Pickle has no idea what I've done and this is just too excellent.
I've been sitting on these pictures for three months now. That's a record for me because I have absolutely no impulse control. Zero.
Are you ready? I can't wait any longer.
These are Pickle's kids. His BOYS. Aren't they sweet?
Yeah, I know they have odd faces. They come by it honestly.
This is his youngest. He looks exactly like his Daddy did at this age, except with blonde hair and brown eyes. The lighting is all wrong here, so you really can't see that.
And his oldest. What a great belly button that little hula boy has.
I love these kids, and not just because they give me more opportunities to torture my little brother.
They made Pickle into a Daddy, and there's nothing better than that.