When he was three, on a summer day, my little brother climbed the stairs of our house and ran up to me and the neighbors kid.

He had some medical issues as a baby, so most of his toddler and early childhood years, he looked rather frail and bony. Great kid, but not really what you’d describe as cute. Not on this day though.

He ran up to me all smiley faced and star-eyed and yelled my name. You know, like in the movies. I remember how the neighbors kid just quietly sighed “cute” right next to me. I was so damn proud.

I wish it was something more sophisticated like seeing his health or whatever. All I can say is that I was really fucking proud of how incredibly cute my little brother was, while he wobbled into my arms.

10 years ago, a Black woman told me that, while it’s perfectly valid to disagree with other people’s opinions, I should rethink the level of confidence that I depict when discussing a topic that I don’t know all that much about.

She probably saved quite a few others and myself from a fair bit of trouble.

Oh, I know that game, very appreciated! When I get too excited, I might use pepper spray or a kick between the legs. It makes things fun!