Little Brother, Big Blessing

For nine blissful years, I was the baby of the family, and it was an enviable thing to be.  Then on a stormy night in August, he arrived and dethroned me from that comfortable position.  A squalling, dark-headed, diaper-bottomed creature took up residence in our house.  He was wrinkly, smelly, and noisy, and I fell head-over heels.

I played with him, carted him around, kissed him and made up songs about him.  I adored him -- until he was about five.  Somewhere in there he became a nuisance.  Maybe it was when he turned Ninja turtle, fighting off the bad guys with a pillow stuffed in the back of his shirt and a plastic sword belted to it.  Maybe it was when he and his little friends acted as secret agents and would snoop on my sophisticated friends and me.

And then I had to put up with his uncanny arithmetic abilities.  Even though he was nine years younger than I, he became quicker at mental math.  As our parents quizzed us at the dinner table, the little squirt would have the answer out before I could carry the one to the third column.  And when I graduated in the top ten of my high school class, he declared, "That's nothing.  I'll finish at the top."  Ten years later, I watched him give his valedictorian speech.  The bum.

I had front row seats to the shaping of an individual -- and perhaps a small part in the shaping.  After all, if he hadn't had me to beat, would he really have graduated first in his class?  And if it weren't for me, would he really have gotten married?  I have some serious doubts about that one since I gave some key advice along the way.  (Grin.)

I have been honored to watch my little brother grow from being a big baby to being one of my biggest blessings. . .  .

But, then again, I guess he really always has been.

Happy Birthday, little brother.  You're one more person I look up to.

p.s. Readers, have I mentioned at 5'9" I'm the shortest one in my family? Heehee!

Little Brother, Big Blessing