My “little” brother stays with us for a week every summer and this is the week. The quotation marks are necessary because he’s a good 8 inches taller than me now, but he’s still my little brother because he’s only 16. That makes me almost twice his age. Ouch. (Note to self: Do not play 90’s music around someone born in 1996. They will not know any of the words and you will feel super old.) My mom likes having him stay with us because she thinks we’re a good example of a healthy husband/wife dynamic (awe blush) and a middle class family. (Read: We are well-educated and live comfortably, but we actually have to work for stuff most of the time.)
He is a good guy. He has been very helpful with the kids. He likes holding Penny and playing with the older ones. I was able to get 6 loads of laundry washed and put away yesterday while he kept them occupied. He hasn’t said any bad words or tried to sneak any beer out of the fridge. He takes the dog out. He politely asks my permission before doing pretty much anything. So far, his biggest flaws are that he likes to sleep until noon and stay up late playing video games. Is there a teenage boy alive who doesn’t like those things? Also, he readily admits to being lazy. I happen to be married to a man who does not have one lazy bone in his body. (Seriously, we’ve been a couple for 12 years and I have never seen him take one day to do nothing but relax.)
We (mostly Eddie because what do I know about teaching a teenage boy how to do hard labor?) are tasked with the job of teaching him the value of hard work. My mom lives in a condo that has an association that does most of the landscaping/typical teenage boy chores for her and my dad, who was about 40 when Trey was born, is just getting too old and starting to have too many health problems to do most of the physical labor that he did when my sister and I were younger. Plus my dad has always been of the philosophy that if you can afford to hire someone to help you do something you should, because then two lives are improved: yours because you don’t have to do it and theirs because they are trying to support a family. Trey’s too young to remember back before my dad had money or health problems, so he’s never seen his father do physical labor or needed to do it himself. He’s grown up rich.
That, my friends, is a recipe for a Kardashian.
That’s not what we want.
Both of my parents, separately, have asked me and Eddie to try to teach the kid how to work hard while he is with us. To their credit, both of my parents really have tried to instill in all of their kids the knowledge that most people are not born with silver spoons in their mouth.
Trey’s wife is going to thank us someday.
Trey probably won’t.
His perception is a little skewed. We actually had this conversation in the car…
“How much does Eddie make?” (He is thinking about college and his future career path)
I told him.
“That’s it?”
“That’s actually kind of a lot, especially for someone our age. It’s more than 50% above the median income for a family in our area. It’s enough to support 5 people pretty comfortably.”
“That’s not even half of what dad makes.” (Teenagers really don’t have much of a filter, do they?)
“Dad’s been the Chief Financial Officer for two different public companies and owns several other businesses. You are not going to find a job right out of college that pays what dad makes.”
“I know, but if I work hard for a few years, I’ll make more money.”
“There are a lot of people who work hard their whole lives and don’t make a lot of money. I have a friend who is a social worker and she makes….when I was a teacher I made…”
And then I lost him.
“I’ll go to school and work hard for a while and then I can pay other people do do stuff I don’t want to do.”
Sigh. “Well, if that’s your plan I guess we better teach you to work hard then, huh?”
So far this week, in between work, being a dad to three small kids, and working on the blueprints for our new house, Eddie has taught him how to use a power washer and cut the grass.
I have to say I loved watching my husband teach my little brother all about two-cycle versus four-cycle engines and the high expectations he had, which he knew Trey could meet. It’s a special thing to see, your husband teach your brother how to be a man and know some day he will do the same for your son. That, really, he already is, just by the example he sets every day.
After the first half hour I was like, “Hey, wow! He actually did it. Trey cut the front yard. It’s 90+ degrees out here, don’t you think you should take over now?” (In my head this is still my baby brother, after all)
Eddie’s reply was simply, “No. He’s cutting the whole thing.”
We have a big back yard.
I really thought Trey would quit. He has terrible allergies and very fair skin. He was sweaty and splotchy and sniffling.
There were several times when he stalled the mower and had to ask Eddie to help him get it started. He stopped for two or three drink breaks, but he always kept going.
He did it.
All of it.
He didn’t even complain.
I think he appreciated being treated like a grown-up and given the responsibility, even if it was a pain in the neck.
My baby brother is becoming a man.
And my husband is helping him.
One chore and one ruined pair of shoes at a time.
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