A BNIB Birthday Tribute

In Kindergarten my brothers would be rough housing and sometimes I would end up in the middle- which was the worst part- but to every downside there is an upside. After bawling my eyes out because I got caught up in their whirlwind elementary fight-club, my brothers would often put on a nice song and dance to get me to forgive them/not tell mom and Irving. Often this routine included begging for forgiveness and allowing me to continuously punch them as hard as I wanted, after which they would exaggerate the pain they felt from my powerful 5 year old muscles. Good times...

Every summer we used to spend 2 or 3 months in Florida where my DAD lived. Since CNIB was too old for games and spent most of his time watching sports or tv shows on DAD's large screen tv- Brandon had no choice but to spend time with his sweet, adoring little sister. We spent our days doing the following: putting hand soap in CNIB's sunny delight (as if the drink wasn't gross enough already-Sorry CNIB, at least you are still alive), watching Nintendo baseball games as if they were real- I think that was just me actually, but BNIB happily obliged, and playing ghost writer (with awesome pen necklaces and everything...). But my favorite memories of those summer days actually come from when BNIB and I would roller skate to the nearest shopping center and roam around Toys'R'Us for hours- they had the best air conditioning- and buy press on tattoos-me, again, not him- and watch every summer blockbuster imaginable. 

Also, there was a great incident at the beach, when we were all on an island and Brandon and I were on one side (it was a very small island) and were diligently searching underwater for sand dollars- we just let the current carry us as we had our heads buried in the water and eventually we looked up to find that we had drifted around to the other side of the island, but were some ways off. To top it off, we were is some sort of natural whirl pool that was sucking us under water. As BNIB waved his arms and yelled for help, I bravely freaked out and practically climbed on top of my brother's shoulders to stay above water (i exaggerate, i exaggerate)- but BNIB just kept telling me to calm down (and by that, I mean he said, "stop freaking out, you're going to make me drown too")- eventually, some jet ski peeps picked us up- but I wouldn't have made it without B. 

On my first day of 2nd grade, my teacher told the story of the most wonderful student she ever had. "This student was soooo polite," she went on, "this student was so kind to others and always said their please, thank yous and yes ma'ams and no sirs. This student was one of the best students I ever had and his name was Brandon Niblock and this is his sister, Amber." I thought I was going to die because while I was secretly proud of my brother, I also was terrified of what I had to live up to. For the rest of my life I would grow up hearing that CNIB was such a wonderful student, CNIB was always on time, CNIB always did his homework and also hearing, BNIB is so funny, BNIB was a joy to have in class, BNIB is so polite and respectful, BNIB-CNIB-BNIB-CNIB. To one teacher I finally just had to say, "Well, I am not my brothers."

Okay, the story everyone loves to hear. When Brandon was in 5th grade, the teacher was going around asking people what they wanted to be when they grew up. When the teacher got to BNIB, he said "A cop." To which she asked, "Why?" To which he answered, "So I can beat people over the head with a club."- Before everyone freaks out, my brother was obviously joking (we hope- :)), but the teacher was very upset by this remark and proceeded to call my mother to inform her of the conversation. My mother's reply- "Well, at least he was honest." - implying that all the other kids were just saying a profession and then giving some goody two-shoes answer as to why. Either way, I think my mom knew my brother was too good hearted to ever actually mean that. 

Whenever I was having a bad day, BNIB would sometimes help me plan a sock war attack against CNIB- which basically meant folding every pair of socks in the house into a ball and throwing them at CNIB. 

I could go on forever, but blogs are supposed to be somewhat short, right? I mean, there is no amount of words that could describe why B is so great- after all, he is the only guy I know that would choose to do his college how-to speech on "how to make a sock puppet" and still look cool doing it. Either way, I am saving my BNIB stories for my biography. SO Happy Birthday BNIB and thanks for making my childhood worth writing about... and for letting me live. 

Love and Junk, Amber