How I dropped by brother from a tree as a baby
No pictures because no one said yes. Consent! Anyway this is a tribute to my little brother for not dying.
I want you to read this with the understanding my brother is fine. Yes, it seems like serious damage might have occurred during the events of this story, but rest assured, he walks amongst us even now.
So to begin…
It was New Year’s Eve, and the whole family, close and extended, had managed to get ourselves to the park for fireworks. We’d even managed to arrive early enough to get the good spot, near the water next to a tree. And so, after setting up a small fortune of camping chairs that got one use a year and picnic blankets no one wanted to sit on, everyone kind of dispersed. The adults pulled out their booze of choice (excepting the unfortunate designated drivers), the cousins ran off to terrorised the unexperienced children who thought the park was for play, and I sat down, a book in my hands and a baby in my lap.
It was his first New Years, his first set of fireworks, and while my parents were getting tipsy, I wanted him to have the greatest view of the fireworks he could have. As it edged closer and closer to show time, I started to scope out our area. Yes, the ground was pretty great for seeing the upcoming light show, but he was a baby, and I knew for a fact that my parents, aunts, uncles and all their obnoxiously tall friends would get in the way. And so, I finally thought of the tree.
Well, obviously since I thought of the plan, it was my Dad’s job to execute it. So, I managed to untangle myself from the baby, step around the three year old trying to run past everyone to see the Guy Sebastian tribute going on stage, and managed to get to my Dad. He was one of those poor fools who’d drawn the short straw and thus weren’t drinking, or at least he wasn’t supposed to be. I think he was, but who’s to know?
This isn’t his story, so let’s move on.
We managed to get the baby into the tree pretty easily. It was a low branch and he seemed pretty cool with it. But, as baby’s are ought to do, he didn’t have the core strength not to almost fall twice before Dad figured out the trick. Have him lean back into his hand, and hold him like that. It was uncomfortable, awkward, and I to this day believe that all that baby could see was the foliage of the tree, but it worked for him, and if he told me it worked, it worked.
Now, for some unknown reason, I had to hold the Baby up for a few minutes. I don’t know why, but I believe my other sibling had gotten their wish and managed to escape to go see the man on stage. Either way, as I stood there, holding up this precious cargo, something spooked me, and I turned to see what it was and- the baby fell.
In my innocent, seven year old mind, I heard the word “fuck” for the first time.
The funny thing was, no one seemed to notice, other than Dad, who must have thought I’d brought him down by myself. I guess I did. But he was fine. No scratches, no bruises, not even any crying. He fell maybe 5 ft. onto a pile of blankets. Granted, he was a baby, but as far as falls go, it was pretty safe.
I don’t think Dad wanted to let my mother know. In fact, I know he didn’t because he said this:
“Don’t tell your mother.”
So he just checked him over, picked the bundle of joy up, and told me to sit down and not to say a word. The three year old turned back up, soon I was surrounded by cousins and the fireworks were fun. I think. All the was going through my mind was that the baby in my Dad’s arms, the one giggling and playing with his drunk aunt and throwing soggy biscuits at passers-by, had fallen from the tree.
So let that be a lesson to everyone. Don’t put babies in trees. Or if you do, don’t leave them to the care of flighty seven year olds who get spooked pretty easily and have the attention span of a gold fish with short term memory loss. Also, you can drop babies with no consequences, sometimes. That’s not a lesson. Don’t do that.