The Bretz Boys

As the oldest of eight children, I did a whole lot of child-care when I was growing up. My first sibling arrived when I was 16 months old and the last one when I was sixteen and in between I changed a lot of diapers, fed a lot of bottles, gave a lot of baths, and read a lot of stories. My younger siblings say they remember doing things with me more than with our parents, who were basically just crowd-control engineers at that point. By the time I was in high school I knew I didn’t want to have kids.

Luckily, my siblings have been very productive though and I’m lucky to have seventeen nieces and nephews and five “greats”. I love them all but have to admit there are ones that manage to work their way into your heart on a special level. The Bretz Boys, Cal and Patrick, are my sister Lisa’s sons and they sure can make me smile. I have been thinking a lot about them because they are coming to visit in a few weeks and I am very much looking forward to it.

Cal, who is now 12, was a precocious child. He could read like an adult before he even started school and was wildly popular among his classmates for his ability to read stories to them. He is a good boy with a sweet disposition and a very mature personality. We don’t see each other often (they live in Pennsylvania) but when we talk on the phone, he is always full of information. I feel like I am talking to another adult. He has an adult charm that I find delightful. I can always tell when he is in the middle of a movie or a book when I call and he answers the phone because he’ll say, “Well, I know you want to talk to my Mom, so I won’t keep you.” Translation: I’m busy — here’s Mom.

Cal was five when Lisa and Doug had their second child. Lisa didn’t want to find out the sex of the child but was convinced it was a girl throughout her pregnancy. Five year old Cal, however, insisted it was a new baby brother. One day, as the anticipated birth neared, Lisa said to Cal, “You know, it might be a baby girl — we have to take whatever God gives us.” Cal thought for a moment and then said, “I know, but I talked to God and He said He’s all out of girls.” Apparently this was true.

Convinced she was carrying a girl, Lisa hadn’t thought of a boy name but Cal took care of that, too. When Doug brought him to the hospital to see his new brother, Cal ran down the hall yelling, “Where’s Patrick? Where’s my little brother Patrick?” So, Patrick got his name.

Lisa said if God told Cal he was getting a brother, God must have said what his name was, too.

So, Patrick entered the world. From the very beginning he was, and is, a character. I have sometimes thought that while Cal’s personality and emotions all seem to range in the middle, Patrick’s exist on the far extremes. No one can be more sweet, cuddly, loving and adorable — and no one can be more cranky, contentious, and hard to get along with. Where Cal loved books and reading, Patrick loves doing stuff. On one of my visits to them, he became fascinated with my knitting. Every time I pulled out my needles, I had this cute little blonde elf perched beside me. When I discovered an elaborate art set in his closet - full of pastels, colored pencils, watercolors, and brushes - I showed him how to use them and Patrick spent literally hours entirely focused on making art. Lisa said he recently told her that when he grew up he wanted to be an artist “just like Aunt Kathleen, cause she’s a real artist.”

We tease Lisa that, in Patrick, she has recreated my Dad. He has Dad’s charm and stubbornness and also his quick wit. When Lisa told him on Saturday that it wouldn’t hurt him to eat a bite of his salad, he retorted, “It hurts me just to think about it.” He’s eight.

So in four weeks they will be here. Mark has a cottage at the edge of Good Harbor Beach that they can stay in and, I am certain those dunes and the beach will be well explored while they are here. I can’t wait.

Thanks for reading.