Happy Birthday, Alex.

One of the greatest things about having a younger brother is his invariable cluelessness to all sorts of academic and everyday matters: “Who’s Hitler?” or “How do you fold a shirt?”

I have the developed the habit of jabbering continually in his presence about some topic or another, and then stopping mid-way to ask “do you know what that is?” His answer is always a “no”, and even if it’s a “yes” I ignore him and explain it anyway.

Alex, The Baby Formerly Known As Alexander, is my best friend FOREVER. Once I swore to myself that I’d never use “forever” in reference to another person, because, jeez, it’s cheesy, and nothing is forever and yadda yadda yadda. But this is my noodle-noggined, lightsaber-wielding, ballroom-dancing, pain-in-the-ass baby brother we’re talking about. And everyone has someone they’re willing to relax the rules a little bit for (but only a little, you hear me, Alex? No playing on my Pokemon Diamond save!)

Today is the last day I’ll ever be exactly double Alex’s age. Tomorrow, April 27th, he is nine, and I lose a chunk of my bossy, know-it-all sister advantage. Some day we’ll reach a point where I’ll ask “do you know what that is?” and he’ll roll his eyes at me in a very LIKE, DUH fashion. Then I’ll just have to squint at him real spinster-like, jab him in the stomach and explain it to him anyway.


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