That's what we call him...Bobby. There's always someone who then questions us with a confused look when we use that name for him. "Bobby? Did you just call him Bobby?" His real name is Collin Brett, so no one can figure out how we came to call him Bobby! It's a random story: When Mia was little she called Alissa and I "Sissy," so we tried to get her to call Collin "Brother." She tried and the result was "Bobby." And it stuck. I'm not sure how it did, but Collin's definitely doomed to be "Bobby" for the rest of his life because everyone calls him by that name now. Not just our family, but also his friends, my friends, our friend's parents, cousins, etc.
I couldn't find a really good picture of Bobby so I thought this one would work. The master is here executing his wicked overhand volleyball serve. Collin is also sic mountain biker. He loves mountain biking on...mountain biking trails I guess. We have some trails around our woods that he bikes on occasionally, and he just finished a crazy, rad jump that he made out of two by fours. I plan to have 911 already dialed when he goes off it the first time.
I'm sure you're wondering how Collin gets along with a house full of girls; or as he would put it, "this hothouse of female emotions." He actually does pretty decently. He's used to us all crying all the time, and although he does occasionally overdo the girly emotions jokes, he knows when enough is enough. To tell the truth, I think the only thing that keeps us from completely falling apart sometimes is his sensible approaches at fixing the gigantic, huge, overwhelming small daily problems that can sometimes tip our emotions scales a little too far one way.