Where There’s a Will, There’s a… New Sibling?
After spending all of their parenting years with only one child (that would be me), my parents decided to expand our family. So they adopted a 21-year-old college student. Or maybe Will adopted us.
My parents are professors at the same small college, and since they’re youngish and pretty hip (as professors and parents go), students tend to want to be around them. Will, who has perfectly useful parents of his own, nonetheless decided an extra set never hurt anybody, and gradually integrated into the family.
It’s not unusual to come across students at my parents’ house; apparently, one of the things college kids of both genders miss most is an oven, and they frequently make cookies in my family’s kitchen. So when I first met Will, I didn’t give him any more weight than the other Sara Lees and Emerils who shuffle in and out. But then I noticed he was at my parents’ house more than I was, and my son was calling him “Uncle Will.”
Yes, my mother informed me, I now had a brother. And what a brother he is.
He called me at work right before Mother’s Day to discuss the menu he was going to prepare for my mother—or I guess I should say “our mother”—among other topics. I got off the phone with him after what was a pretty typical conversation, and my colleague began laughing hysterically. “What?” I asked, assuming (correctly) that she was laughing at me.
She explained that the one-sided conversation she had overheard was a bit odd. “All I heard was, ‘No, I don’t know if Wal-Mart has black candles. Why? You need them for what kind of ritual? Eww. Don’t explain it, for heaven’s sake. Does Dad know you’re drinking his good Scotch? Yes, I can hear Mom saying it’s okay. Just make sure she’s sober when I get there; she has to drive me somewhere.’”
It all made sense in context (except the black candles thing; I still don’t want to know about that), but it made me realize how our family has changed with the addition of this little bundle of joy. I rarely discussed the status of my parents’ liquor cabinet or Wal-Mart’s candles before Will’s arrival.
He does have many talents and skills, though, one of which is his knowledge of animals. In his original family, they breed and raise horses, so Will knows horses inside and out (literally, as he’s explained in horrifying detail). So when my parents have a problem or question regarding their Dalmatians, Will usually puts in his two cents. And this is usually very handy. Usually.
One day Sappho, the insanely hyper female dog, turned up with long, thin, raised lines under her fur. My parents were bewildered and asked Will what he thought. He said he thought it looked like worms. Then he went on to describe the types of worms he thought they might be and other finer points I could have gone on without knowing.
Needless to say, we were all plenty grossed out, and I made my son wash his hands for five solid minutes whenever he touched Sappho. My worried parents made an emergency appointment with the veterinarian.
They returned from the vet’s office the next day looking sheepish. It seems the appointment had gone something like this: after they explained why they thought Sappho had some horrible worm disease, the vet looked at the dog and asked if my parents had bushes on their property. They replied that they did. The vet then said that, in his expert opinion, Sappho wasn’t suffering from some ghastly parasitic ailment, but was, in fact, suffering from scratches. Perhaps received from the aforementioned bushes, which she had been leaping into on a regular basis.
Will has other skills, too. One night after dinner, he decided to read Tarot cards to cheer me up (it had been a rotten few days). I don’t know anything about Tarot, but after he dealt the cards, I thought it looked like I had lots of good stuff on the table. Like I said, I don’t know anything about Tarot.
By the time he was finished explaining what all of the different cards meant, I was practically sobbing. It was only at this time that he discovered he’d read the cards upside down (whatever that means), and my reading was completely off. He may have been making that up, but at least I wasn’t a puddle on the floor when he got finished with the revised reading.
Yes, all in all it’s good to have a brother. Especially one who doesn’t have any legitimate claim to my parents’ estate. TPW
My parents are professors at the same small college, and since they’re youngish and pretty hip (as professors and parents go), students tend to want to be around them. Will, who has perfectly useful parents of his own, nonetheless decided an extra set never hurt anybody, and gradually integrated into the family.
It’s not unusual to come across students at my parents’ house; apparently, one of the things college kids of both genders miss most is an oven, and they frequently make cookies in my family’s kitchen. So when I first met Will, I didn’t give him any more weight than the other Sara Lees and Emerils who shuffle in and out. But then I noticed he was at my parents’ house more than I was, and my son was calling him “Uncle Will.”
Yes, my mother informed me, I now had a brother. And what a brother he is.
He called me at work right before Mother’s Day to discuss the menu he was going to prepare for my mother—or I guess I should say “our mother”—among other topics. I got off the phone with him after what was a pretty typical conversation, and my colleague began laughing hysterically. “What?” I asked, assuming (correctly) that she was laughing at me.
She explained that the one-sided conversation she had overheard was a bit odd. “All I heard was, ‘No, I don’t know if Wal-Mart has black candles. Why? You need them for what kind of ritual? Eww. Don’t explain it, for heaven’s sake. Does Dad know you’re drinking his good Scotch? Yes, I can hear Mom saying it’s okay. Just make sure she’s sober when I get there; she has to drive me somewhere.’”
It all made sense in context (except the black candles thing; I still don’t want to know about that), but it made me realize how our family has changed with the addition of this little bundle of joy. I rarely discussed the status of my parents’ liquor cabinet or Wal-Mart’s candles before Will’s arrival.
He does have many talents and skills, though, one of which is his knowledge of animals. In his original family, they breed and raise horses, so Will knows horses inside and out (literally, as he’s explained in horrifying detail). So when my parents have a problem or question regarding their Dalmatians, Will usually puts in his two cents. And this is usually very handy. Usually.
One day Sappho, the insanely hyper female dog, turned up with long, thin, raised lines under her fur. My parents were bewildered and asked Will what he thought. He said he thought it looked like worms. Then he went on to describe the types of worms he thought they might be and other finer points I could have gone on without knowing.
Needless to say, we were all plenty grossed out, and I made my son wash his hands for five solid minutes whenever he touched Sappho. My worried parents made an emergency appointment with the veterinarian.
They returned from the vet’s office the next day looking sheepish. It seems the appointment had gone something like this: after they explained why they thought Sappho had some horrible worm disease, the vet looked at the dog and asked if my parents had bushes on their property. They replied that they did. The vet then said that, in his expert opinion, Sappho wasn’t suffering from some ghastly parasitic ailment, but was, in fact, suffering from scratches. Perhaps received from the aforementioned bushes, which she had been leaping into on a regular basis.
Will has other skills, too. One night after dinner, he decided to read Tarot cards to cheer me up (it had been a rotten few days). I don’t know anything about Tarot, but after he dealt the cards, I thought it looked like I had lots of good stuff on the table. Like I said, I don’t know anything about Tarot.
By the time he was finished explaining what all of the different cards meant, I was practically sobbing. It was only at this time that he discovered he’d read the cards upside down (whatever that means), and my reading was completely off. He may have been making that up, but at least I wasn’t a puddle on the floor when he got finished with the revised reading.
Yes, all in all it’s good to have a brother. Especially one who doesn’t have any legitimate claim to my parents’ estate. TPW