Overheard in the Family #9

Sunday I met up with the boys for breakfast. And by boys, I mean three generations of family members: dad, baby brother, and baby brother's baby.

I had pancakes. 3B had formula. In a bottle. Because he's a baby, get it?

3B was wearing pants that his daddy referred to as Aladdin pants. So his new name, since Baby Werewolf wasn't really catching on, is Baby Aladdin. Because he's part Indian, get it?

After breakfast, we met up with the rest of our generation and his progeny to watch the foosball.

My two brothers had the following conversation while the older one rocked 3B to sleep:

Baby Brother: Man, Baby Aladdin's got the life. All he has to do is eat and shit. I wish that's all I had to do.

Big Fish: You did have that life. Right up until you were 18.

That exchange might not be funny to you, but the way my brothers clown on one another makes it fucking hysterical to me.

And that's all that matters.