When Karry was pregnant with Emma, people would ask Peter, who was three at the time, whether he wanted a little brother or a little sister. 

His answer was always the same.

“No.”

That one still cracks me up.

I mean, for a three-year-old … that’s a glorious comeback, right there. 

And when I called Karry’s Mom from the hospital to let her know it was, in fact, a girl … and Betty, in turn, informed Peter (who she was watching while we were at the hospital), he made a beeline for the kitchen sink, climbed in the space underneath it, and shut the door behind him. 

Years later, whenever people would ask me about our kids, I’d find myself saying, “My son’s ____ (16 … 18 … 20, etc.) , and he’s still getting used to the fact that he has a little sister.”

All of the above, true.  

So … to be gathered around the table last night in our tiny dining room, surrounded by all our Christmas and life clutter …

… the four of us slow-savoring every bite of the by-request chocolate meringue flourless cake big brother made his little sister for her 20th birthday … 

… listening to them geeking out with each other about the cake’s cross section …

… him sharing with her how the recipe’s author discovered how to do the marbling on top, and how he was meticulous in following the directions … for fear of all the inherent gluten-free and dairy-free landmines …

… how he’s never been one to follow directions … a proud by-product of the Fordyce stubborness he comes by honestly …

… getting to bear witness to a big brother’s pride in receiving his little sister’s approval.

Forgive me if it’s gonna take me awhile to get used to that fact.

I mean, that he wanted to get it just right for her.

Let’s just say … such sweetness is worth the wait.