You Think You Know A Guy

I know Ammon fairly well.  Yes, he was eight when I left home and he considers me to be from a very dark period in our nation's history:  the 80s.

But I know him.

I know he was sick his very first Christmas when he was about 6 months old and we were all dying for him to get up and see his present which happened to be a pink Carebear elephant.

(To my parents, I have to say:  I know he was your 6th child and you probably didn't care anymore about Christmas gifts and gender identity at that point, but really?  Of any stuffed animal on the planet you went with a pink elephant?)

He loved the elephant though.  He called it Pink El-phunt and there was no lasting damage.

I know Ammon used to shoot baskets when he was very small.  He'd climb on an upside down 5 gallon bucket for the extra height.

I knew he was very concerned about skin cancer when he was about 6 and wore long sleeved shirts and a hat daily.

I know he's always been a builder.

I know he was always always cute until he turned into handsome.

I know that I have never ever seen him angry (but then, neither has his wife...or anyone).

I know that he was a superstar in high school track and then in college but you had to drag his record breaking results out of him because he's not one to brag.  (I know, how did he end up in the same family as the rest of us?)

I know that he always did really well in school and would absently answer questions my mom asked Tabor when they were being homeschooled together.

I know he's a great husband and loving and proud father.

I know all of these things about my brother.

But until you see someone lay tile in your bathroom until 12:30 a.m., you really don't know a person.

Ammon cut the tile in our garage.  There are twenty five stairs between our bathroom and the garage (I counted) and Ammon laid over 100 tiles.  He sometimes had to re-cut them.  Because it is perfect.

Ammon hummed amiably most of the time.  And last night when I was sitting by the fire, reading a book and he was running up and down the stairs, he apologized to me and said he appreciated how patient I was being with him.

He apologized to me.

And he's doing my slave labor.

And I thought I knew what a spectacular brother I had.

My mom said it took 6 tries to get a perfect one.

She wasn't kidding.