Easy as one, two, three

by Katie on May 22, 2012

Anyone who has spent time with my baby brother can attest to the the fact that he’s just plain cute. Yes, I just called a 17-year-old boy cute. And yes, he will hate me for that.

But it’s true. He keeps the whole family in stitches (and his older brother rolling his eyes) every time he opens his mouth and he still has one of those little boy grins that just lights up a room (and exemplifies the word “mischievous,” but that’s for another day).

He’s one of those people who is just funny without trying.

Hence, the following tale…

On my little Texas trip a couple weeks ago, he had chosen to postpone his birthday celebration for 12 whole days to be able to spend it with both of his big sisters [find another 17-year-old boy willing to do that].

The boy loves him some seafood. (Which his older brother hates. Which could be behind his reasoning to love it so much.)

Particularly, anything that comes in a shell or requires peeling or cracking. The messier, the better, as far as he’s concerned.

So, he picked a local seafood joint known for serving crab (his favorite, right behind crawfish) to celebrate his birthday.

It had been years since I had picked apart a crab for consumption, and my friend Allison never had, so when the seafood platter we shared showed up with two barbeque crab at the top of the pile, we needed a bit of instruction to get us going.

Enter baby brother to the rescue.

We called him down and he went to town, cracking and pulling, snapping and picking, providing minimal spoken instruction along the way.

When he was all done, he told our blank faces:  “See? It’s as easy as one, two, three.

“…Only it’s more like one, two, three…four…five…six…seven…or something like that.”



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