I have a little brother….well, not little in size to me, but younger. I’ve always called him my little brother though.
I have such great memories of our time spent together. No, we didn’t always get along but mostly we did. I do remember my mom saying the only thing she hated as we were growing up was when we fought. I didn’t get it until I had two kids and felt the same way.
Today is my little brother’s birthday so I have been reflecting on the fun we had…
- playing basketball for hours in the driveway, H-O-R-S-E and one-on-one
- little bro’ standing at the back door and watching for the school bus so I could finish ‘doing my hair’ until the last second, and then yelling “BUS” so I could come running
- scheming to distract our older brother so we could claim the bean bag chairs and the channel on the t.v. for shows we liked before he could sit down
- chasing each other and the dog around the back yard with lots of noise
- being the official scorekeeper for his little league baseball team
- planning ways to hide peas so we didn’t have to eat them (including making a ring of them under the plate, and putting them in our mouth and going to the bathroom and spitting them in the toilet)
- playing school, and him always letting me be the teacher
- whispering at night from his room to mine and back until mom or dad yelled to “cut it out”
- riding roller coasters together and taunting each other if either one was scared
And one of my best memories…when my parents got me a birthday cake with a picture of my yellow triumph spitfire on it…and I wrecked the car the day before my birthday. After singing Happy Birthday, my dear little brother took the knife, smushed in the front of the car made of icing and asked with a smile on his face “is this more like it Sis?”
A stunt only a little brother could get away with.