Happy Birthday, Jonny

I felt the resentment of Hera, standing next to his tanktopped tank arms as my feet refused to levitate me up to the sky as they once did,
and watch as he soared, bum ankle and broken wings and Adonis arms, holding little sidekick blowing in the wind as motorcycles crashed through against the red hand.

And I so want him to have the personality of a hippopotamus;
surly and defiant and mean-spirited, 
but then I remembered he really does have the personality of a hippopotamus:
playful and hilarious and snuggly and massive and vegetarian,

and I am so glad for my little brother,
Number Five,
and his facetious hippopothotamus-like knack for slaughtering words and hacking convention with deadpan bravado,
and the loyalty of an infant rhinoceros.

He is superhero, except for possessing cape and powerful powers, but he does have tights and Speedos and the moxie-ish charm of Paul Rudd. 

In fact...I may regret writing this, but I am almost more glad to have him as a brother than Paul Rudd.

Wow. That just might be the biggest compliment I've ever given away.

So, Jonny, just know that you are a superhero to one young boy right now. Your nephew. You are a superhero for now. Just for right now. Not for much longer, because I will soon be teaching him about gravity and the current impossibility of non-assisted human flight, and he will realise you are more hippopotamus than superhero.

And someday he will realise that better than having Batman for an uncle, better than having Paul Rudd for an uncle, he is so lucky to have you for an uncle. 

And I am so lucky to have you for a brother.

Love you, my hippopotamus superhero.

Happy birthday, Jonny.

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