Bubby Rubby

My brother is 22 months younger than I am, but when we were younger everyone thought we were twins because he was big for his age and I was pretty small for mine. His hair was as blond as mine then and our eyes are almost the same shade of blue. My godparents' daughter, formerly my best friend, couldn't seem to get the words Baby Robby out right, so for the last 27 years, we've referred to him off and on as "bubby rubby".

Of course, there was a short shift to another nick name when he was five or six... Our parents were off traveling in Utah, of all places, and our best babysitter Theresa was staying with us. One day, can't remember why, she asked Rob was his middle name was.

"Cow," he said.

"Nuh uh," I said. "It's Ky-" but Theresa shushed me up.

"Want to know how to spell that?" she asked.

"Okay."

"R-O-B-C-O-W." There is a reason she was our favorite babysitter, eh? "So now we can call you R-O-B-C-O-W."

And we totally did. For years.

I still do on occasion, though Bubby Rubby seems to be regaining it place of honor. For similar reasons, he still calls me Koffee. I guess it reminds us that we used to be friends. Before we fucked that up.