Sibling Rivalry

Mom came through the door and proudly passed me a homemade book.

“Look what Mama kept all these years. It must be 20-years-old,” she exclaims.

It’s a book I made back in kindergarten. I laughed while flipping through it. With crude drawings that look like blocks; I told stories about my school, my teacher, my friends, and my family. I somehow distinctly remember drawing the picture of the school swing-set.

Brian glanced at the book and decided to speak up with a hint of sarcasm.

“I wish Mom kept the things I made when I was little.”

“Mama kept this, not Mom. I remember drawing a picture for Mom when I was 4 and giving it to her. The next day I found it in the bathroom in the trashcan.”

“I never threw that awa –” Mom is cut off by Brian.

“Oh yeah? When I was little, Dad accidentally stepped on my favorite toy car and broke it!”

“Pshh, that’s nothing. When I was little, Dad purposely took a hammer to my favorite toy monster truck! You remember that: He claimed he was going to ‘fix’ it in the backyard while I watched from the window. I smiled at him, and he just hammered it into fragments.”

Mom conceded with a sigh while my brother and I laughed. Only Brian and I would take a moment that should be sweet, and turn it into a sarcastic game trying to one-up each other.

By the way: I win.