a tribute to my brother-in-law

The first weekend in May, my family is having a Clean Out the Basement Weekend, and I've been invited to join them for the fun in CT. And while, to most normal people, that sounds something akin to having a Long Weekend at the Dentist's, it actually could be kind of fun. Especially since my sister and brother in law will be coming in from Boston.

This morning I started thinking about the way my family (pre-Scott, my brother in law) has always operated -- we've always had very distinct roles to play every time we've gotten together. For example, when we used to go on vacation, this is how it worked:

Mom plans everythingDad pays for everythingPriscilla (I still reserve the right to call her Polly, but will endeavor to use Priscilla) bosses us all into doing everythingand I step in in case of an emergency

So I was imagining a whole weekend of not really having a role in my family (which sounds far more dramatic and psycho-babblish than I really mean it to) and thought that maybe I'd skip the whole affair, until I remembered that Scott would be there. Because he's kind of like a twin me, except shorter, smellier and faaaaaaaaaar more patient with my sister. So if I had no role to play, I'd at least have Scott to play with (unless, of course, my sister co-opted him first).

One of the seventeen million reasons Scott is one of my favorite people in the world is the phone call I got a few weeks ago, which, paraphrased, went something like this:

Priscilla: Hi, it's me. I just want to say I'm sorry.
Me: For what?
Priscilla: You know how I poked you in the boobs all those years? I had no idea how annoying that was and I'm sorry I ever did it.
Me: Really?! And why is that?
Priscilla: Um, well, Scott sort of started doing this thing where he just randomly comes up to me and starts tapping on my breastbone and it really hurts and is really annoying.
Me: hmmm... sounds familiar.
Priscilla: So, I'm sorry.
Me: (into speakerphone) Scott, I LOVE YOU!