"Sissy, Wook at My Woot Beew Beddy!"

I suppose everyone has siblings. Many even have baby brothers. Nobody except for me, though, has a Landon.

Pseudonyms:

“Slime Bucket” given to him by our dad and later shortened to “Bucket.” An accurate description of how those pretty blue eyes and sweet, innocent smile were always surrounded by the likes of dirt, Spaghetti-O’s, or various bodily fluids emitted from his nose.

“Cojack” has probably faded away with the cotton blonde hair he was born with.

He goes by “Lanny Boy” most often when he’s in the company of our grandparents. This one, I expect, will stick with him for the duration of his life.

Most important, though, is the name given him at infancy by his older, wiser, beautiful sister... As I pinched his cheeks until they were as red as his Kool-Aid mustache, his name became “Baby Brudder.”

Brave Buddies:

It was early elementary when we first found out Landon had epilepsy. From then, until well into the awkward years we all call junior high, he spent just as much times hanging out with the nurses and doctors at Medical City in Dallas as he did with his peers in school. As you can imagine, the sterile atmosphere of the hospital can a drive little boy mad. Unless, of course, he has some partners in crime to endure along with him, the tireless amount of testing and experimental medications. The two bravest of comrades; Barney and Beddy Bear.

Early on, you didn’t see Landon unless he was holding on to a big, purple dinosaur. He finally exceeded me in size when he was about 6. I discovered his size and his strength when I tried to hide Barney. Good ole Barney was well-versed in EKG, EEG, MRI, and the multitude of other poking and prodding Landon toughed out. I thought he would be around forever… I thought wrong.

It took a very special friend to replace the dinosaur. I still extend my gratitude to whoever created “Beddy Bear.” It wasn’t until his arrival that we got to stop watching the same Barney video over and over and over. A mousy brown bear, with a black and red bow tie was the captor of Lanny’s attention for as long as I remember. I won’t tell you that the bear is still in his possession even as I type this because I’d never want to embarrass him like that. Landon’s bond with that stuffed animal was enough to make a big sister jealous.

When you think of the sweetest little boy there ever was, you can’t go without the brief thought of Barney and Beddy Bear as well.

Sayings:

“I wike it, I wuv it, I wont some mowr of it…” Move over, Tim McGraw. Baby brother could steal the attention of anyone around with his rendition of the then popular tune, “I Like it, I Love it.”

“My head hurt, my beddy hurt, my wegs hurt, my aw aw aw aw over hurt.” Yes, he was, indeed, a hypochondriac since January 26, 1987 established in Grand Saline, Texas.

Friends and family members, I’m sure, could share any of several of his sweet sayings, but my very most favorite had to be, “wook at my woot beew beddy!” The baby boy’s belly seriously protruded out as far as my afro hair was wide at that age. He loved drinking root beer. You’ve never seen someone who could down as much root beer as that baby. With eyes watering from gulping the carbonated beverage, he would lift up shirt, rub his stomach, and proclaim to all who would listen, “WOOK AT MY WOOT BEEW BEDDY!”

Sweet Baby Brudder. I love, love, love that kiddo. I suppose that’s why the first recipe I conquered out of my new Best Church Supper Recipes cookbook (special thanks and compliments to the wonderful Lana for her thoughtfulness) was ‘Root Beer Cookies.” Don’t jump to conclusions, I bribed him; “Baby Brudder, if you’ll come mow my yard, I’ll let you eat some root beer cookies.” Worked like a charm.

Lesson Learned: Few things in life are more precious than having a Baby Brudder.