My earliest memory is of the day we brought my little brother home from the hospital. He was tiny, weighing in a little over five pounds. I'm not for sure if carseats were mandatory back then, but Mom held him on her lap on a pillow.
One of our family's favorite stories is about me wanting to help Mom with the new baby. Mom says that he was "my baby" and I was constantly letting her know if he needed a bottle, a diaper change or was crying. One of the occasions when he was crying and I decided to take him to my mother.
According to my mother, I kept saying, "Baby crying. Baby crying." Only by the time I reached my mom, Michael was no longer crying. I just happened to grab him in a choke hold around the neck to take him to my mom. Apparently he had a slight bluish tinge by the time I reached her as well.
Michael claims I've had it in for him since that long ago day.
We had our ups and downs like most siblings, days we would play together without fighting and the fighting that parents hate with lots of kicking, punching, and smacking. Tons of misplaced blame.
In high school we got closer. Probably because I was able to drive him to school and he didn't have to ride a bus anymore. When he started getting girlfriends, we would talk about them. When boyfriends broke up with me, he would threaten to kick their butt.
And now, we're all grown up. We still compete when we can. Unfortunately, the hourly wage fight is all but over because he blew me out of the water with his last pay raise. We enjoy telling on each other now that we are old enough our parents can't do anything about it.
When Roxy is really getting into something she's not supposed to, I get to see my little monkey of a brother all over again in her devilish little grin that they inherited from my grandpa.
I love my little brother. I am so glad that part of him passed to my daughter. If she got it from him, it can only be good.