The rest of the boys will often tell you “In Omar we trust”, because he, easily and without any exaggeration, is the only sensible one out of the bunch.
He is the one you trust, the one you talk to, and the one you can count on to turn out a fire if one of the imbeciles topples down the argeeleh. He can control Whitey, who actually obeys every order he mutters while even ignoring her name if anyone else calls her. He is the only one sweet enough to take care of unwanted guests and annoying children.
He can solve any mind-puzzle in the world, while the rest of us lose concentration in roughly 2 seconds. He fixes everything we break, and finds everything we lose. He calls us when we’re late, and helps the youngest of us study. He dances like a pro, and has one of 5 smiles in the world that instantly make me happy. He has played basketball with Yao Ming, eaten more chocolate than the Kit Kat Man, and wrestled with Whitey.
But well, Omar 7abeebi, don’t let your head get too big yet, it’s already too high. Yes, you are a lot more sensible, but you’re still as crazy as the rest of them boys.
I mean, he thinks NBA TV is one long soap-opera, and refers to everyone as “shorty”, “midget”, and “qazam”, just because he had the took all the right genes to turn into a giant. He eats all the chocolate in the house and hides the rest that he can’t fit into his stomach. He hides my glasses when he wants to “play”, and manages to turn any conversation to sports talk.
We love him nonetheless, the family “sheikh”, and we all acknowledge that we would have burnt the house down years ago if it weren’t for his wits.
Happy birthday Omar. We lurveee you, your Heightness.