Growing up as the middle child: snapshot of what life was like growing up with a little brother…

Situation #1: When you put the spark in sparkle.

My brother, by trade, is a mechanic and from a very young age has always been fascinated with how things work. We found this out in his early years around the age of three when our parents had guests over. This one particular night, my brother brilliantly decided to grab my parents’ keys from off of the kitchen counter, and when no one was paying attention – which usually happened with him being the third child, stuck the key in the electrical outlet in the kitchen. With the kitchen lights flickering on and off, a loud buzzing sound, and jolt of energy running through his body, my brother suddenly dropped what he was doing and ran into the living room. Needless to say, the quiet boy became even quieter.

 

Situation #2: The closet case introvert.

One time, my mother was upset and asked me to quickly run into my brother’s room to show me what she ‘discovered’ on the top shelf at the back of his closet during one of her weekend warrior cleaning frenzies. Now to put it into perspective, my mother would routinely enter my brother’s room, as if  she was just issued a search warrant, to ‘clean’ the 11×12 foot space and it didn’t matter whether he was in the room or not. In all fairness to her, my brother was (ahem… still is) the messy child and she ran a tight ship when it came to cleanliness in the home… and perhaps coupled with the fact that my brother would notoriously leave a trail of “evidence.”  This time, my mother had discovered water bottles that were half-filled with a murky, yellowish brown color. Since my brother in his early teens was really shy and introverted, our mother ‘naturally’ assumed our brother was making homemade bombs. In a near panic, she called my father who opened the bottle, smelled the liquid and knew it wasn’t a bomb. The real truth was that my brother was a closet case smoker and he would smoke out of the window in his room and use the water bottles as an ashtray. Let’s just say did not miss her calling in the field of forensic science.

 

Situation #3: The bail out.

Over the years, my older sister would routinely ‘bail’ out my brother from a number of situations. If she didn’t intervene, it probably would have equated to one less child in the family and quite possibly an incarcerated father. My brother, as a student, was not exactly known for his academic pursuits. One year, during report card season, our father repeatedly asked to see his report card. The only reason he even knew of the scheduling, aside from the fact that his two older sisters attended the same high school, but mainly because the information was posted on the front lawn sign of the school that our father would pass on his way home from work each day. After constantly being pestered for his report card, my brother finally said that the report card was on the way. Roughly a week later, the miraculous report card surfaced and not even Einstein himself could have produced the grades that were written on it. Now the funny part of this situation is that my mom gasped for joy thinking that my brother’s grades had improved tremendously, but it was our father who was wiser to know the difference. What my brother failed to take into consideration was that my father was a printer by trade and paper was his business. My father just by looking at the report card knew that it was fake and the look on my brother’s face was priceless. Let’s just say the real report card  made an appearance soon after. 

 

Situation #4: Fake news.

Another time, during one of our mom’s weekend warrior cleaning frenzy, I was summoned yet again to my brother’s room, as our mom was in a state of near panic. Now, I was privy to such events, as my older sister had already moved out of the house, and I had the luxury of entertaining such conversations. This time, our mom was in the midst of  putting away my brother’s laundry, and to her surprise, she had found a loose white spherical substance in the corner of his dresser drawer. In a shaky voice, our mom turned to me and asked “do you think this is what I am thinking? Do you think this is cocaine? This would explain why the little f*cker has lost so much weight?” I said I had no idea what the substance was, and had no time to think of anything as I was on my way to work. That night, my mom was out running errands, and my father, brother and I ate dinner together. After the meal, our father calmly asked my brother to follow him up the stairs and I was asked to join, as if I was guilty by association.  My father went into my brother’s bedroom to examine substance in question. After a close look, my father  determined the mysterious substance was in fact just dried up deodorant. Now, didn’t I tell you my mom wasn’t a forensic scientist?!

Image via Google

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