Have you ever had a brother who was the epitome of sweet and innocence and purity that you wanted to do everything in your power to protect him from the world? No, I’m not talking about myself, but my little brother, K.C.
Today is my little brother K.C.’s birthday, which means this is the last of the sibling posts. To start with, K.C. is his first name, not initials, even though there are periods after each letter. If you want to know the reasoning behind this, you’ll have to ask my mom and stepdad, but as far as anyone is concerned it stands to reason that it is for Kansas City… as in Kansas City Chiefs or Kansas City Royals. Yes, a football and a baseball team. Again, for an explanation you’ll have to ask the parental units. But, in all honesty, the name fits him perfectly.
So K.C. was fairly young when our mother and his father separated, so as any good big brother would do, I did what I could to help get him to baseball practices and games and help him with school work and have a somewhat normal childhood. Unfortunately both my sister Kassidie and I failed to teach him a few fundamentals, like how to cook. I can only blame myself as I taught her but didn’t even think about helping him because she was completely interested in learning while he was more interested in showing me how completely inept I was (am) at video games.
Right before he started high school, my stepdad and him moved to Wenatchee, a five hour drive from here, which meant we didn’t see him very often after that, about once or twice a year. Sadly I wasn’t able to witness my brother become a man, but alas, he seems to have done so fairly well without me. Although, I must admit, I still don’t think he knows how to make a box of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese.
Happy birthday K.C.! Have a wonderful day, a wonderful year, and may all your dreams come true! I miss you terribly and can’t wait to see you again this summer.