Last night I went out with Wonder Boy to some bars to celebrate Baby Sister’s birthday. The whole family was there with lots of friends in tow. It’s a weird thing my family accomplishes. I think we have the same bullish!t going on as with other families, but I also think we can hang out in one place and have a good time. And maybe that’s what is important.
Ronald Reagan Super Fan met up with us and restrained himself by only buying Baby Sister a mixed drink. Not shots. She didn’t need them. Baby Brother’s friends brought cute birthday gifts and her friends and old classmates kept her in steady supply of drinks and good tunes.
As often happens during birthday celebrations, the guest of honor had a few too many drinks. Does that happen to everyone? It always happens to Baby Sister. At some point I looked across the bar and pointed out the sight to Wonder Boy, my other sister and her new husband. There was Baby Sister standing amidst her friends with one arm straight in the air. If you know her, you know this is dancing. And this particular dance move is not a good sign. It is, however, a clear sign that things are about to quickly go downhill. And they did.
Wonder Boy and I made our way over through the crowd near Baby Sister. She used Wonder Boy as a crutch to hold herself up but it was wobbly going at best. And then she was down. We hoisted her up and I wrapped my arms around her like some puny display of affection between new lovers and kept her afoot.
This morning I received a call from Baby Sister saying she saw a picture of me doing that and heard how she fell. (Yes, no memory of these events.) “Every birthday I get like that and you’re always there to hold me up. Thank you,” she said.
I don’t always like my role in my family. But that, that was possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. It makes being the responsible one not seem so bad.
