brothers are strange creatures

I walk in the door and everything appears normal. My backpacks by the couch getting the sniff over from Kirby, Mom's Corgi, and after all the "welcome homes" I plop my tired self on the couch and proceed to get weirded out. Derek walks up the stairs, or rather, he unfolds himself up the stairs. I think he grew about six inches since I've seen him last, and the first thing he does is to see if he's taller than me yet - by Thanksgiving I'll be looking up. To my little brother. *sigh*

Kurt has discovered Star Wars, going around the house talking about Obe Wan Kenobe, Anakin, and all the other names I'm not even going to try to spell, like he's known them all his life. His Lego AT-AT is getting more sophisticated by the minute, and when he's not doing homework he's pouring over the Lego catalog, admiring Star Cruisers, the dreamy look in his eyes getting dreamier as the pages turn.

The family room has become headquarters to the Brickmasters, the local Lego League - robotics, computers, science, Derek's area of expertise. Who needs to buy a surround sound system when you can make your own? I was more or less jerked awake Saturday morning by the sweet sounds of Lord of the Dance music in my ear and hysterical laughter in the other room. Derek rigged up his boom box to play in both rooms. You splice the wires and things. Simple.

Sunday evening after church they start doing gymnastics over the front lawn - and I, who was previously proud that I can still do a neat cartwheel, am now ashamed. They look like pros. Nine hours a week in the gym will do that, I suppose.

I'll go read Thucydides or something. Make myself look smart.