Brain Break: Congratulations To My Sister

Dear Megan,

The day is almost here. The day you leave the academic halls of MU behind for the sterilized halls of…whichever hospital it is you’ve decided to grace with your newly diploma-ed registered nursing experience. (I can’t keep up with your ever-changing mind.)

Aren’t you excited?!

We all sure are. Actually, I don’t know who’s more excited – our parents, or me!

You see, now that you’re entering the workforce, Mom and Dad are handing over the reigns of your health and car insurance (Happy Graduation!). That means they’ll have more money to buy me a new car begin investing more fervently in their retirement. And we both know that once retirement begins, Dad will have so much more time for Mom’s never ending list of chores. He’ll be able to paint the house, gut the basement, renovate the office, mow the lawn, build that roof over the patio, and install a new set of steps to the back door all without the fortunate commitment pesky distraction of employment.

Too, now that you’re graduating my stress level will surely decrease! I’ll never again have to worry myself over whether or not you’re correctly citing research materials in your papers; unless, of course, you go on to grad school, and you probably will, in which case not only does your graduation mean I’m still going to have to buy my own new car but I’m also undoubtedly going to have to pay for a new prescription of anxiety medication – thanks. And you wonder why I haven’t been able to afford a decent graduation present yet.

Actually, now that I think about it Megan, the only one who’s really excited about your graduation is Chopper. She fully expects you to regularly swipe those disposable hospital underpad thingies – they act as awesome puppy pads, you know.

Ah, Megan, I’m just kidding (but not about the puppy pads). It will be a glorious day indeed, and we are all truly excited and happy for you.

But remember, no matter how successful you become and no matter how much free health advice I plan to seek, you will always be the little sister who kept me playing with Barbies until an embarrassing age, who put her fist through my bedroom door when I pulled her ponytail, and who introduced me to a whole new breed of friends last February.

Congratulations, ma soeur. I’ll see you again Thursday.

Love,

P.S. You still haven’t told me whether or not I should order the Dave tickets.