When Girls Hafta' Be Boys

     When I was very, very small, I somehow came to the conclusion that I had a mission in life; to protect my little brother.  He was three and a half years younger and for some unknown reason, I felt that my whoooooooole purpose in life was to make sure that he survived with as few lumps, bumps and bruises as possible.  I am a very dedicated person.  Once I decide that I have a responsibility, there isn't much that can stop me from fulfilling that responsibility.

     I don't know how my little brother figured out that I felt this way, it might have been my big mouth, but he seemed to find interesting ways to torment me into making sure he was safe at all times and in all places.  Of course since he was human and a boy, there were times when fights and injuries were a natural process of life.  I tried to keep ahead of them, but even I knew that I couldn't protect him all the time.

     Then, there were those other times; you know what I mean... when he would taunt someone just enough to get them to come after him.  That wouldn't have been so bad, but he always ran to me and they almost always followed.

     Now, I kinda' like to think of myself as a peace-loving person.  I've never liked fighting, arguments, disagreements or even unsettling discussions.  I could be perfectly happy if everyone in the world just always got along, ya' know?   But that was not to be; my little brother needed to be protected.

     Such was the case one day when he came running, yelling, "She's gonna' kill me!"  Then, he promptly ran inside and locked the door... with me, outside.  Cute!

     Sure enough, not far behind was a little girl about my age, heck-bent on doing damage to another human being... and I was the only human in sight.  Well, as I said, I felt that my main purpose in life was to protect my little brother.  Seeing so much anger directed at him was enough to ignite the fire in me on his behalf.

     Before I realized what was happening, I found myself at the bottom of a huge oak tree, calling up to the previously angry little girl, "Come down and fight like a man!"

     When it was all over and the girl had promised to go home peacefully in exchange for me not pummeling her, I exacted my own kind of revenge on my little brother.  In retrospect, I've often wondered if my methods for exacting revenge might have been the reason he sicced the dogs on me, so to speak.  As it turned out, that one day was the exception to the rule.  Most of the time, I did not fare so well.  In fact, I generally went away with plenty of evidence to the contrary.  Maybe if I had been kinder to my little brother, he would have been kinder to me.

     Thank goodness we have developed a much healthier and friendly relationship.  I believe it may have a lot to do with the fact that I am still here and telling this story, today.  Remind me to tell you about the day I realized he was gonna' pass me up in size.  Now, that's a story that will throw fear and trembling into the heart of any older sibling.

     Until the next time, keep a hug on.

 ~ Yaya