The Brothers Grimm

Did I ever mention that I have two younger brothers?  I didn't?  I think it 's time the truth be told.

I was about 3 years old when my world was invaded by another being.  Look, I had a good thing going for the first three years of my life.  Attention, toys, attention, attention, and well, attention.  What kid would want to share something so perfect?  Children don't learn the value of sharing till much later in life.

So here he came, this invader, into MY world of perfection.  The thing was though, that he was pretty darn cute and kinda cuddly.  He was the uber baby doll, although I had difficulty carrying him around by his neck or tucked under my arm.  I have to say that he really wasn't too fond of the little pink plastic baby bottle either. Hmmm?  So, this little baby grew on me, but only if you don't count the stink he created, and I started to like having him around then.....

18 months later, she did it again!

What was this woman thinking?!  I just can't care for two of these things, I am only 4!  She really should have consulted me first.  I will be the bigger person though and find a way to deal with it.  Thus began the years of freakish play and arguments but it was a good thing......that my parents suvived that is!

There are pluses to having younger brothers.

1. They are smaller then you so you can be the ruler of the kingdom.
2. They are less knowledgeable then you and that can provide many many hours of fun and frivolity.
3. They will do your bidding and their punishments are lighter due to #1 and #2.
4. They always come back for more.
5. They forgive quickly if candy is involved.

Younger siblings are the training bags for the older ones and vice versa.  I am not strictly talking about physical contact, but we get to practice our theories on things that we can potentially use in the real world.  Because, as most of us have learned, in the real world if you randomly push someone down or throw a ball at their head you will be prosecuted and if you do a good deed and pull a person from a burning building or remove a splinter from a stranger, you will be thought of as a "phila...er...phila...er.....a good deed doer".  (Can you name the movie that came from?)

Mike is the cerebral middle brother who was born to be an engineer.  Nothing was safe.  He could have most electronics apart and inoperable before... well... before you could shed a tear at its demise.  He slept with a fan IN his bed, created weapons from carpet tubes, almost shot his eye out, almost blew himself up, and made models.  I remember when he was maybe 9 or 10 years old, before he became truly dangerous, and was deep into the model building.  He would sit for hours at his desk with paint, glue and toothpicks building Revell kits of cars, ships, and airplanes.  On this particular day he was gluing the pieces of one of the models together using toothpicks to, ever so carefully, place the perfect amount of glue on each of the teeny tiny pieces.  He dropped a piece on the floor and bent down to get it it when.....yelping and a weird kind of moaning penetrated walls in the house.  I ran in to find him standing before me and unable to speak, except for small quiet grunts of what appeared to be pain.  I scanned his body and saw nothing though his face was contorted with the agony that only.....a gluey toothpick thrust into your belly and stuck could create.

Yup.  Mike had not noticed the gluey toothpick that fell off of his desk and stuck to his shirt.  When he bent down to pick up that rogue piece of model, the toothpick inserted itself into his stomach with the glue side in.  As his sister, I was driven, yes driven to save him from this agony, to be the hero that only a sister can be and stop his pain......but first.....a chuckle.  Now I can save him.    "That has got to hurt!"  OK, now!  "This may not come out ever!"  Really, now I will take it out......"Look at how it just sticks straight out like that!"  Suffice to say that the toothpick did get removed and all was well again in the kingdom.

Jeff, the youngest, is the artistic type, thoughtful, sensitive and a little bit, ummmmm crazy.  Jeff and I use to have historic battles.  We were like the House of Valois and the House of Plantagenet, fighting for 100 years to gain superior advantage and the throne.  When it was still a plus to have younger brothers,  we would fight over stupid things and I would knock him down, sit on his chest and drool long threads with the intention of sucking them back up again at the last second.  All I can say about that little torture is that I never got very good at the "sucking it up" part of my plan.  Really, I was about the torturous sublty of the drool being there but never touching you.  I have always thought that drinking a big glass of milk might have created the viscosity I was looking for.  Unfortunately, I never thought of it when I could have used it.

The problem with little brothers is that they get bigger and this is where the story takes a very sad turn.  They both grew far larger then I, the petit flower of the family, and this caused all kinds of issues.  I will forever recall the day that my youngest brother Jeff, he is the emotional, crazy one, standing 4 inches taller and a bit stronger then I was, grabbed me lifted me and threw me down on the floor of our living room.  Now this was not an unprovoked incident and I most certainly deserved it, I think...maybe.  I was stunned.  He may be taller and stronger but he has crossed a line!  I am his......weak and meak sister who must be protected and cared for.  Yea!  You saw it.  The shift.  The thing was that my reign was over and I would need to find another way to hold the respect and admiration that the oldest sibling deserves, now that I couldn't manipulate or beat my subjects into submission that is.

In the end, my brothers and I have lived through being our own worst enemies and now enjoy a playful and less antagonistic relationship.  We found a way for the kingdom to be a more or less democratic society with the occasional threat of a coop to keep us all on our toes.  After a toddler's misgivings, a preteen's disgust, a teen's boredom, and a young adult's distraction, I am happy that I have the brothers that I do.  Love ya bros! 

P.S. I have a million stories I can tell about my childhood but, as I said, my brothers are bigger then me (the petite flower of the family).








Did you have a good time? Did you enjoy this post? Let me know and leave a comment. Share the post with your family and friends on your favorite social media or subscribe and help support Flying Monkeys. If you go toStumbleUpon using the icon on the right and click the “I Like it” button(it’s free), you help other people to discover Don’t Make Me Call My Flying Monkeys and that will help our little blog grow and our monkeys can keep doing what they do best - FLY. Thank you for all of your support. The Monkey Queen