I also have an amazing, handsome and sweet cousin who is getting married tomorrow. His name is Brandon, and as fabulous a man as he is, I feel like it is appropriate that I blame him for this fear.
When he and I were young, we went swimming in a creek behind our great grandmother's cabin. He saw a toad and--being a 4 year-old boy at the time--demanded that we chase and catch it. When we subdued said toad , Brandon decided that he then wanted to "see what it would be like to poke it with a stick." I agreed to this as I was a self-proclaimed "tomboy," but didn't know that the subsequent visual would haunt me for the rest of my life.
Brandon proceeded to poke a stick in the toad's back until its entrails came out of its mouth.
I get chills thinking about it even now after all of these years.
Brandon has changed a lot since then--he's still a man's man: he likes sports and fishing and hunting and the like, but he's also sweet and kind and gentle, and he picked out an incredible woman to marry.
I'm looking forward to celebrating with you tomorrow, cous! May you be blessed with a lifetime of happiness and a house full of sons who love toads.
Brandon and me when we were little tykes. He--obviously--needed help drinking his apple juice, so I was happy to lend a hand.