Mixing up some fun

I don’t know how many of you have heard the tale of the Great Mixer Heist of 2004 so here it goes:
Once upon a time my beautiful mother decided that she didn’t have enough room in her kitchen for her beautiful, gleaming, white Kitchen Aid stand mixer. So, because she loves me the most, she gave it to me. I used it daily and polished it with love every night until the day came that I had to pack up most of my belongings to put into storage so that we could move in order for Charlie to go back to school for his master’s degree. Because I couldn’t bear the thought of my beloved mixer disappearing into a box for over a year I allowed my little brother, Russell, to use it in his home until I could reclaim it in my own kitchen.
For those of you who don’t know Russ, let me explain. He is an ok guy, one of my favorite little brothers really. But he cannot seem to overcome the envy he has held for me every since the day he realized that our parents prefer me over him. Most of my other siblings have come to terms with this, but Russ still stays up seething with jealousy most nights. Apparently, one of these sleepless night he began forming a plan. In his twisted mind the mixer represented the love my parents lavished on me and he decided he needed to steal it. I can picture his eyes gleaming with determination and his dimples in the moonlight as his plan came together.
Suddenly, one day, he declared that the mixer was his. Mom gave it to him because she knew he would treasure it, and I was hallucinating if I said anything different. This was actually a good tactic because he knew that he couldn’t use logic, so accusations of insanity would have to do. He desperately clung to the mixer and shouted at everyone that it belonged to him. Most of us just smiled at him with understanding and patted him on the head, hoping that the crazy wasn’t contagious. A few sat in wonderment, trying to figure out what he was so upset about, it was just a stand mixer. This went on for months, until the day finally came for the mixer to return to it’s rightful home, my countertop.
I phoned up my sister in law, Amy (who is a wonderfully talented person who has the amazing ability to deal with Russ) and asked her if she would be able to bring my mixer with her the next time she came over to my house. She only paused for a few beats until she agreed with reluctance ( I knew she was attached to the mixer too, but only because it makes good mashed potatoes, not because of any mystical force it represented). I don’t know if she used force, or medication, but she managed to get Russ to bring it with them when they came for Thanksgiving dinner. He seemed a little bit more placid than normal so I’m pretty sure he was heavily tranquilized. He glared at me as he set it gingerly on the counter and gave it a last longing caress
Amy tells me they have bought a new mixer, but Russ can’t seem to bring himself to use it. I feel kind of bad for the poor kid, but not enough to give up my favorite appliance. I actually just got it repaired (Mia was helping me make cookies, enough said). I haven’t used it lately though and is starting to collect dust. Maybe I’ll let Wendy borrow it, so she can know what it is like to be the favorite child.