Joe January 13, 2008

Joe is my little brother. He is 22 months old, and adorable. Just today, he came rushing in the door from playing out in the back yard dying to see me. He screamed, “Keka! Keka! Where Keka?” (Joe calls me Keka.) But Elizabeth, my baby-sitter told him, no. She said, “Keka’s doing her homework, let’s go outside and swing until Keka gets done.” So Joe went out side and swing on the swing, but when he had enough, he said, “Okay, Keka!” and he came running inside to find me sitting on a bean bag chair with my other little brother, Robert, who is seven, watching Drake and Josh, from Disney Channel. Robert obviously taught him how to tackle. (Robert is obsessed with football, both when he plays, and when the Dallas Cowboys play, but he is not nearly as obsessed as my dad!) Joe came running full speed at me, arms out-stretched, slamming me with a hug, relaxing his sweet little head and soft long curly brown hair on my shoulder, his arms around me tight, and his darling chubby legs curled up to his chest. It’s a very small thing to write about, but he made my day. I can’t even explain the love and warmth I felt as he hugged close.