This cutie-patootie is my granddaughter, Shannon, on her 11th birthday. She is now almost as tall as her Aunt Meg, although in all honesty, Meg is quite small (4’10”) for her 19 years. We had pizza and cake for her birthday, and told stories about her birth. How her dad was sick and almost slept through the whole thing, how her mother almost broke my hands, and how both grandmothers, after spending the day being supportive while dad slept on a couch, were summarily dismissed from the birthing room when it was time for her to be born.
Shannon was sort of interested in all this. Her brother was not. He’s up next.
While Shannon was doing “girl stuff” and listening to stories about her birth, Tyler was being, well, Tyler. This is pretty much how he is all the time. He’s active, all boy, and adorable. Also busy, creative, and funny as they come.
Tyler has the distinction of having been born in Georgia. All the rest of us were born in the Great Northwest. Tyler, in second grade, learned all about the Civil War this year. This is important in the next picture
Aubrey told us a story about these two. They were having one of those senseless fights siblings
have. Shannon told Tyler they should stop fighting. To which Tyler replied, “We have to fight.” Shannon, being older and wiser, said, “Why?” Tyler, ever the logical little dude, said, “Because you’re a Yank and I’m a Rebel.” Yep. He sure is.