My brother, Casanova

So my little brother, all of sixteen years, has brought home his first girlfriend. I’m sure there have been a string of them already but, until now, we could all remain blissfully ignorant and just pretend he was still the young innocent we’d watched taking his first steps and saying his first words. A classic case of ‘out of sight, out of mind’. But when mam came home from work recently to find the pair of them watching a DVD in the house... well, the illusion was irrevocably shattered. It was the end of the age of innocence. And, like any mother, I don’t think she took it too well.

She was straight on the phone to me to spread the good news. When I asked what the young lady was like, mam replied, “She has a badge on her bag that says, ‘Sex, drugs and sausage rolls’. I hope she sticks to the sausage rolls.” That pretty much summed it up for all of us.

So yes, my little brother is officially all grown up. But it doesn’t end there – apparently the lucky lady turns eighteen this month. Eighteen! That means that not only is my brother actually dating, but he’s dating an older woman! Quite the little Casanova, it seems. I don’t know whether to be horrified or slightly impressed. In truth, I guess I’m a bit of both.

And, according to mam, he’s actually gone and bought her a present. The first present he’s ever bought for anyone ‘cause, to him, spending money on anything other than video games was the same as setting it on fire. The same guy who, when I told him he was going to be an uncle and asked if he was excited, simply said, “No”. The same guy who doesn’t like Christmas. The same guy who would struggle to drum up enthusiasm for anything other than a lie-in. I mean, it’s all very “A Christmas Carol”, only with more snow and less dying children.

(Obviously I’m not going to spoil the surprise by telling you what the present is. There’s no doubt in my mind that the girl in question reads the Kildare Nationalist religiously, and particularly this column. After all, she’s dating my brother so she clearly has exceptional taste.)

So it’s officially the end of an era. I basically have a man for a brother now. Given that there are twelve years between us, I’ll always think of him as being just a kid but, unfortunately, he seems intent on reminding me of reality. Whereas once he was all bright eyes and scratch mittens, now he’s all long hair and fingerless gloves. Whereas once it was all “gotta catch ‘em all” Pokemon, now all he wants to catch is forty winks. And women, apparently. Alas, long gone are the good ol’ days when girls were icky and smelly. I’m not sure what conversations have taken place at home, but mam has made it perfectly clear that she’s quite happy with just the one grandchild for the foreseeable.

So now the whole thing has me worrying about the future of my little one. I mean, it feels like it was only yesterday I was sixteen myself, so it’ll only be a matter of blinking before my little girl is all grown up and starting to attract the interest of boys. (Coincidentally, it’ll be right around the time I go to prison for breaking some kid’s legs.) I’m pretty sure that’ll be the point at which I finally start drinking. But what can I do? There’s only so much cotton wool I can wrap her up in.

No, all I can do, as any mother can, is hope and pray that she sticks to the sausage rolls too.