First Ballet THEN Karate.

You need to know this right off. What you are about to read is not a story of redemption.  I don't want to waste your time in case that's what you were looking forward to. I remember summers lasting an eternity.  In the interest of full disclosure, I was a super nerd and absolutely loved going to school. I haven't changed that much. I once took both French and Law during the summer...just for fun.  I did not go on to be a laywer in France, I became a nurse who can sometimes count to ten in Chinese if I think about it really hard.  Summer school clearly altered the course of my life.

Another thing I learned from the summers is that my brother is a really nice guy and I'm kind of a jerk.  His one request of me was to play karate with him.  And I was TOTALLY up for it except we needed to play ballet first...  I don't have any pictures of it but it basically was like this:

Sadly, I was always exhausted beyond words after the dancing that I was forced to take the rest of the day off.  We would have to save karate for another time, bro. This happened every. day.

An additional aspect of summers, for which I am not proud, was the cooking portion of each day.  The agreement was that one of us would go into the kitchen, whip up something tasty and the other one was unquestionably obligated to try it.

On a side note, I can't believe my grandmother let two grade school children have full access to her food and kitchen appliances.  She was a better woman than I. That business will not be happening in the Thomas kitchen.

He would set out to make something awesome for me to taste and it was usually good.  I, however, would purpose to concoct the most vile combination of ingredients imaginable.  A gallon of milk, some flour and a whole lot of garlic powder.  And he would eat it.  Sweet boy.

So basically, I would like to publicly apologize to my brother for all the garlic milk and ballet.  Next time I see you, you have full permission to karate chop me.