Gettin’ Down on Friday

Next Friday is my brother’s Christmas performance at school.  He’s four years old and still enrolled in pre-school (he starts kindergarten next fall, I’m so excited).  I missed his performance last year because I had class at that time and it was near the end of the semester — the time to start cramming for exams.  This year, however, I’ll be able to attend.  His performance is at 10:00am and at that time, I do have English but my professor is ending the semester next Monday as she is leaving to go home to New York for the holidays.  I don’t blame her.  My stepdad won’t be attending because he takes off for all of my brother’s field trips to chaperone and passed on this one.  My mom is a supervisor so she really tries to avoid taking off work unless she’s flu-stricken sick.  If my brother gets sick, my stepdad stays home as well (he’s a counselor at an elementary school).  My mom is going to try to leave for an hour to attend his performance.  Her parents weren’t well-off and they both worked very hard all the time so she was always that child whose parents didn’t attend school functions and performances (her older sister attended instead).  I admire my mom’s amazing work ethic but I do feel bad that she makes herself miss some things  because of her amazing work ethic.  But because she’s drilled it into my head for my entire life, I never miss work, either.  We actually work together at a credit union; however, we rarely see each other because she manages the Tellers downstairs and I work upstairs in the Loan Department.  I didn’t miss work often at my old job, either, but I go to work as much as possible partially because my mom will know if I don’t show up.  Plus, I love my co-workers and I know me calling out over a cold will only make things more difficult for them.  I also quit my last job before securing another one and the President pretty much handed me my job.  As a thank you, I work as much as I can, and this includes taking up a full-time schedule during my summer and winter breaks.

I was an only child until I was fifteen and a half years old.  After my parents got a divorce when I was six I just figured I could forget ever having a baby brother or sister.  So I’m sure you can imagine how happy I am to have my brother, and how excited I am to see him sing with his class next Friday.  I always tell my mom and friends this, but I think my brother is so much more fun now as a toddler than he was as an infant.  Sure, a few years ago he didn’t punch me, push me, yell at me, and boss me around, but he also didn’t speak.  He’s so adorable.  Little children say the BEST things EVER.  He loves talking about dinosaurs and animals.  I could listen to him talk for days.  I love, love, love when he sings.  I don’t plan on having children until I’m about 30 (after I’ve gotten my Master’s and taught a few semesters) but my brother really makes me look forward to having children of my own.


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