After a girl is grown, her little brothers — now her protectors — seem like big brothers.
Every time I get my brothers to help me with something--which is often--I tell Mark, "I hope you're going to be that kind of brother."
(Most recently I called Enoch when I had an electrical situation so he could assure me I wasn't going to burn down my house.)
My brothers are good at Stuff and Mark is good at Stuff so I want him to help his siblings when they need it.
The other day I was sifting through the detritus that is my former-school-room-but-too-disorganized-to-be-called-an-office-yet. Through the open window I heard Emma get home from her voice lesson. She got out of her car and called Mark over. (He was on the side of our house, digging a hole. Like Elder Haynie said during conference, sometimes boys dig holes.)
I heard Emma tell Mark that her car indicated low tire pressure. From my upstairs perch, I saw Mark show Emma how to find out what the tire pressure should be. He retrieved the air compressor and explained how to use it. Then he filled her tires for her, talking to her carefully the whole time so she could do it herself in the future if needed.
I like brothers that are good at Stuff.