brothers and sisters
I'm the oldest of two children. I have a younger brother. I'd like to come clean about something: as a child, my brother was annoying. Like really annoying. He did all sorts of annoying stuff. He made faces, made weird noises, played in my room when I didn't want him to, let his crap float over the line onto my half of the back seat of the car, etc. Oh yeah, and he used to get food in his hair at dinner time and I'm sure he ate loud. I remember trying to watch TV after school only to have him lay on the floor in front of the tv and put his feet on it. His feet!! Nothing ruins the Ninja Turtles quite like a pair of big stinky feet with dangling socks hanging off the toes wandering all over the TV screen.
You know what else was annoying? That my parents didn't notice how annoying he was. He'd be doing his annoying things and I'd yell at him a bunch of times to stop before finally smacking him for all I was worth. I was a good big sister. He knew it was coming. Me yelling at him to stop doing stuff was just like getting a warning. It's not like I'd just come in out of nowhere and beat the snot out of him. And who do you think got into trouble? Me! That's right. Not the little nuisance that drove me to my anger. I acutely remember thinking:
Why does he cry like that? He does these things over and over and won't stop, trying desperately to make me mad. Then I get mad. Then he gets punched. He shouldn't be surprised. He invited and welcomed it, after all. He practically begged to get punched in the neck.
But no. The little angel got away with shit and I got in trouble, just because he could squeeze out a few tears.
I swear, they thought he was cute! Ha!
To be fair, we actually were kind of best friends, especially when we were young. We played and played and played way more than we fought, but then the clownishness in him would come out and he'd make it his mission to make the veins in my forehead pulse. He probably hoped I'd have a coronary, then the nurses at the hospital would all exclaim how cute the little devil was and I wouldn't get near as much attention as I so rightfully deserved. Little brothers are like that.
I was innocent, hard-done by, menaced to the utmost degree. My life as a big sister was hard. It was a hard-knock big sister life. I do not exaggerate. One time he split a chocolate bar in two for us to share. I came in the kitchen just as it was my turn to pick - because one splits, the other picks. Seems fair, right? Except that he accidentally broke it into two obviously unfair pieces and decided the best solution was to use a knife to cut the longer one and make the two halves the same size. Then he ate that huge chunk he cut off. How is that fair? Do you see what I was dealing with? I know. I should have called CFS on my own behalf. I didn't know about CFS back then, or maybe I did, but I figured that at least at home I could punch my brother and maybe help him learn some life lessons.
Today Jordan was yelling at Tennyson in the back seat of the van. She was telling him to stop being annoying. Over and over. I couldn't hear him doing anything. Then I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw him putting his hands on either side of his head and spreading his fingers really wide, like elk horns. His face wore this mock expression of surprise and joy and he was swaying back and forth erratically to the music, his eyes alight with a look of pure mischief. I burst out laughing. He's pretty clowny and cute. Jordan was obviously missing something. I don't know what she was so mad about, all she had to do was not look at him. The song changed and he started doing the walk like an Egyptian dance with his hands in front and behind himself, his eyes somehow crinkly and wide open at the same time, while he lip synched along to the music, bouncing around in his chair. Jordan shouted some more, telling him to stop it and that he was really annoying. She was getting really mad. She's lucky Tennyson is funny and cute, and not all annoying like my brother. She's got it good. She could just ignore him. It's not like I could have done that. I'm sure my brother made it impossible to ignore. When he made funny faces he was all obnoxious and he wasn't as funny and cute as he and my parents thought he was. Not like Tennyson. She should embrace his goofiness. If she punches him in the neck she'll definitely deserve to get in trouble. Not like I did. It's not like she couldn't just look out her window. It's not like his chirping noises every time the drums on the song sounded were all that bothersome. She's just being sensitive. Maybe we should chat.
Ah little brothers. A curse upon their big sisters. A best friend and a nemesis all rolled into one.
You know what else was annoying? That my parents didn't notice how annoying he was. He'd be doing his annoying things and I'd yell at him a bunch of times to stop before finally smacking him for all I was worth. I was a good big sister. He knew it was coming. Me yelling at him to stop doing stuff was just like getting a warning. It's not like I'd just come in out of nowhere and beat the snot out of him. And who do you think got into trouble? Me! That's right. Not the little nuisance that drove me to my anger. I acutely remember thinking:
Why does he cry like that? He does these things over and over and won't stop, trying desperately to make me mad. Then I get mad. Then he gets punched. He shouldn't be surprised. He invited and welcomed it, after all. He practically begged to get punched in the neck.
But no. The little angel got away with shit and I got in trouble, just because he could squeeze out a few tears.
I swear, they thought he was cute! Ha!
To be fair, we actually were kind of best friends, especially when we were young. We played and played and played way more than we fought, but then the clownishness in him would come out and he'd make it his mission to make the veins in my forehead pulse. He probably hoped I'd have a coronary, then the nurses at the hospital would all exclaim how cute the little devil was and I wouldn't get near as much attention as I so rightfully deserved. Little brothers are like that.
I was innocent, hard-done by, menaced to the utmost degree. My life as a big sister was hard. It was a hard-knock big sister life. I do not exaggerate. One time he split a chocolate bar in two for us to share. I came in the kitchen just as it was my turn to pick - because one splits, the other picks. Seems fair, right? Except that he accidentally broke it into two obviously unfair pieces and decided the best solution was to use a knife to cut the longer one and make the two halves the same size. Then he ate that huge chunk he cut off. How is that fair? Do you see what I was dealing with? I know. I should have called CFS on my own behalf. I didn't know about CFS back then, or maybe I did, but I figured that at least at home I could punch my brother and maybe help him learn some life lessons.
Today Jordan was yelling at Tennyson in the back seat of the van. She was telling him to stop being annoying. Over and over. I couldn't hear him doing anything. Then I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw him putting his hands on either side of his head and spreading his fingers really wide, like elk horns. His face wore this mock expression of surprise and joy and he was swaying back and forth erratically to the music, his eyes alight with a look of pure mischief. I burst out laughing. He's pretty clowny and cute. Jordan was obviously missing something. I don't know what she was so mad about, all she had to do was not look at him. The song changed and he started doing the walk like an Egyptian dance with his hands in front and behind himself, his eyes somehow crinkly and wide open at the same time, while he lip synched along to the music, bouncing around in his chair. Jordan shouted some more, telling him to stop it and that he was really annoying. She was getting really mad. She's lucky Tennyson is funny and cute, and not all annoying like my brother. She's got it good. She could just ignore him. It's not like I could have done that. I'm sure my brother made it impossible to ignore. When he made funny faces he was all obnoxious and he wasn't as funny and cute as he and my parents thought he was. Not like Tennyson. She should embrace his goofiness. If she punches him in the neck she'll definitely deserve to get in trouble. Not like I did. It's not like she couldn't just look out her window. It's not like his chirping noises every time the drums on the song sounded were all that bothersome. She's just being sensitive. Maybe we should chat.
Ah little brothers. A curse upon their big sisters. A best friend and a nemesis all rolled into one.
Comments