Sitting on my front porch the other day, I watched as two neighbor boys tried to climb to the top of a loosely stacked, six foot plus, pile of lumber. The smaller boy, about five or six years old, wasn't big enough to work his way to the top. So, he just stood next to the pile, watching, as the bigger boy, about ten years old, inched his way on up. Once he got to the top, he began trying to stand up. But, because the lumber was so loose and floppy, he kept falling onto his knees--and then he'd try to stand up again.

After about the fourth try, I called over to him: "I don't think that's such a good idea--I sure would hate to have to come over and pick you up, after you fell off the top of that pile and broke your leg, or something."

He didn't say a thing, but the littlest guy didn't miss a beat. Answering right back he said, "That's okay mister--if he falls--I'll pick him up for you!"

As the bigger boy climbed back down from the pile, all I could do was laugh. I guess this was a perfect case of, "He ain't heavy--he's my brother!"

Thanks for clicking in,

Uncle Kent