This weekend I got to see my little brother, Jake, who is now 10 months old. He is adorable and his new word of the week is ball, but he whispers it, hushed and shy, "baaall" or "baaa." My husband is scared of babies. Jake doesn't seem to care, though; he says ball to us all no matter how confident we are in our ability to take care of him. Having a little (very little) brother is fun. He reminds me of Charlie when he was a baby, except Jake is nicer.

Charlie was a little pissant. His first word was a loud, explosive, "NO!" He liked to pull Kalie off the counter by her feet -- don't worry, he only did it a couple times -- and I don't think there was any permanent brain damage. Eeks. A little older Chuckie would kick any adult within his range, usually on the shin. Repeatedly. And he was usually wearing a ninja mask when he assaulted people's shins. I remember when he dressed up as a pumpkin one Halloween; somehow he managed to incorporate ninja moves into his costume, so he was the "Pumpkin Ninja" for years in my dreams. Always kicking, always screaming "NO!", but always so gentle with his pet kitty, Scooter.

Scooter died a week ago and I hope Charlie is taking it OK. He'll probably put on the tough guy face, but I know he loved that cat more than any sister of his. :)

At least that's what we thought when he was Ninja Charlie, ages 2 to 11.