My partner pops his head into my office (okay, a wardrobe overflow area with a desk) to ask if his brother can crash at ours in a few weeks.
I am delighted. The last time my brother-in-law came to stay we had to sneak around my partner’s back. This is where context is important. My partner was on a work call in the kitchen and had already said “no” to multiple requests for more Milky Way stars. So I sent his brother around to sneak out the packet because a) I really wanted another bit of chocolate, b) it’s always best to get a Junior Infant to carry out your crimes, and c) his little hands were perfect for reaching through the shelving gap where they were hidden.
I have a six-year-old brother-in-law and I highly recommend the experience to anyone. There are some things to clear up first. For those counting on their fingers, ready to call the police on me – I want to assure you my partner and I are the same age. Secondly, we are not married but I use the term brother-in-law because that’s what we Australians tend to do and who can be arsed saying “my partner’s brother” or “the brother of my partner” every time instead? Not me.
Having a brother-in-law who just started big school this year is great. You never have to worry about him asking to borrow money for starters. Unless it’s for an ice-cream, which is always in my budget as a necessity. He won’t drink all the beers in the fridge. It’s unlikely he’s going to drunk call you at 4am from the Garda station because he needs to make bail. He doesn’t care what car you drive or what you do for a living or any of that old shite. He’s much more impressed by your larger human achievements, like the quality and quantity of your colouring pencils and your appreciation of the big diggers at the construction site down the road.
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He doesn’t pull out his phone at a family gathering and subject the room to videos about cryptocurrency or his golf swing, but he will happily share his favourite YouTube clips about how planes land, which is much more interesting. Sometimes he’ll even sing cute little songs for you, which are much more enjoyable than an adult man harassing you with a guitar and a terrible rendition of Wonderwall.
We have excellent chats. There’s no faffing around in “fine weather we’re having, isn’t it” territory. There’s no feigned interest in renovations for the sake of conversation or convention. It’s straight into the important stuff, like why planes stay up in the air and what are the potential names of every neighbourhood cat we see on the street.
I have someone to watch Bluey with. This is a delightful TV show to enjoy with children but a bit weird to watch on your own as a childless adult. It would be hard to explain to another grown-up why you’re tearing up over animated cattle dogs playing cricket but my brother-in-law has enough tact not to ask.
There’s also the bonus of my partner having to confront his personality traits in a smaller, cuter vessel. When he told my brother-in-law to use “quick feet” to walk home from the park, my brother-in-law started taking tiny tightrope steps so that the toe of one foot lined up with the back of the other’s heel. He giggled, and then we all laughed, because we appreciate a good comedy bit when we see one. “He’s so headstrong”, my partner said with part fear, part respect. This was interesting coming from a man who had a visibly broken hand for months after a GAA match but stubbornly refused to see a doctor.
From personal experience, I can tell you that it’s equally fantastic being the little sibling in the equation
Even though they have the occasional stubborn-offs and a 25+ year age gap, my partner and his brother are best friends. I don’t know who gets more excited to hang out with who, as they run up to give each other a big hug.
From personal experience, I can tell you that it’s equally fantastic being the little sibling in the equation. There’s roughly 11 years between myself and my older brother, and during my childhood that came with some remarkable benefits. It was like having a cooler, younger parent who could drive but also had a penchant for buying illegal fireworks and would teach you how to set them off in a way that meant you could keep the majority of your fingers. My older brother has a body shape often poetically described as “built like a brick sh**house”. In my teen years, he was excellent to have sitting across the dinner table from me, silently intimidating any boyfriend I had into treating me quite well.
Families come in all shapes and sizes but I’m just grateful that for the time being, my brother-in-law is small enough to take to the Zoo and think it’s as cool to visit as I do.
