This was me and my youngest (and hopefully last) brother. Freshman year and what a disaster. What a disaster at my brother's baptism. My stepmother must have been horrified when I walked in through those big wooden church doors and placed my crusty emerica shoes on God's holy floor and then looked up and saw my hair finally tamed BUT green. Well, I was still pretty innocent and don't believe I tried the ganja yet, so it wasn't that bad.
It got way worse the following year after taking my first toke. Oh, memories. Still a practicing Christian, I attended Our Lady of Fatima every Sunday with my dad. Every. Sunday. And every Sunday, my eyelids would slowly meet each other during the "our father who art in heaven". Trust me, I've tried to skip out but dad scared the shit out of me sometimes. Especially when he starts to deepen his words. Or he'll get this really sad hurt look on his face and tell me he just wants to spend time with us since we were absent during the week. He always got me with those sad puppy faces, and bring up the unfairness of custody court.
Weekdays I was with my ma, and weekends and all major holidays excluding New Year's Eve I spent with dad.
So, of course, I went every Sunday to "hear" the word of God and the diner right after to eat pancakes like the family my father always wanted. Minus the fighting, screaming, crying, laziness and craziness. Whatever. He loves us and is totally stuck this aka me crazy nut F O R E V E R.
Sure I may not live with my dad anymore due to constant disagreements between me and his wife due to artistic differences - we get along way better now that I'm not home btw - but I did live with him for a while to switch up the custody deal and for shock value (just wanted to know him and my baby bro more really). In that short time, I've trained my hamster (my brother's nickname) to be almost like me and to keep his eyes wide open taking everything in. After I left dad's nest in exchange for ma's, my hamster acquired a baby guitar, skateboard, love for sports, coloring, and craziness. Even if we are entirely different, which I'm sure we are, I was there during the most important times of his personality development. Plus, it makes me feel better that we have some common ground since we're 15 years apart.
Oh, and he loves telling people he's an uncle. No one believes him, but it's true.