Big Brother vs. Little Brother

I have a brother…a “big” brother to be exact. Yes, that makes me the baby of the family…I know, I’m so lucky ;o).

Growing up with a big brother, I knew nothing other than playing ball with him, wrestling with him, tattling on him, and of course torturing him…yes, all about him.

My daddy likes to tell the story, and I think he likes to tell it to kind of twist the knife a little if you will…ha-ha, just kidding, Daddy.

Anyway, the story goes like this…One day Garrett and I were playing {and I may or may not have been torturing him} in the other room. Garrett gets so angry with me, runs in the kitchen where Mama and Daddy were and yells out, “Why did you have to have her? Wasn’t I enough?” I know, it’s one of those “priceless” childhood stories that we must relive whenever we’re together.

There was no doubt I was the thorn in Garrett’s side. I was the one who knew how to get his goat, and just by a look I could send him over the edge….hey, that’s what little sisters are for, right?

Even though I was very good at making him angry, I was the best playmate he could have. He could dress me up in full baseball or football gear and out in the yard I would go playing the sports he wanted to play. I could tromp in the woods behind our house painted in camouflage and play Rambo.  Even in high school I would take his lunch to school, deliver it to the lunch table with mine, and even let him use my locker because I had the better location. Ok, so the last thing I just did because I loved him so…honest.

But in all this “he” playing, Garrett never played my games with me.  He never played Barbie’s and laughed at me when I played school. So, that’s all I knew: sisters play brother games and not the other way around. I guess it’s a “big” brother thing.

This is what I thought for years…it’s all I knew.

Years go by and then I have my own children. I have a son and daughter and they are 22 months apart just like my brother and me…cool, huh.

Although, there is a slight difference…my daughter is the older of the two. Still, not knowing any different, I figured she would want to play with her brother and make him happy, and play the sports and crazy wrestling games that he wants to play. I mean don’t all little girls dream of playing baseball in the backyard in 95 degree heat and then come in to play sword fight and Captain Jack Sparrow???

Well, let me just paint the picture for you. As I type, my kids are in the living room playing. There are no swords, no super heroes, no balls or gloves. There are baby dolls and cell phones, and this is the conversation:

Hunter: “Baby wants her hair in braids, ok.”

Dallas: “Ok, I’ll fix it for her.”

Hunter: “Ok, call me when she’s finished, ok, Sweetie {said in a slightly higher pitch}.”

And two days ago we had to go to the store for a couple of things. Dallas took her baby doll because she always does, and instead of Hunter taking his beloved shark, what did he take? A baby doll…all dressed in pink!

Oh that poor boy!!!

When Dallas is out of school, he looks up to her so much and wants to be with her, he’d do anything to make her happy…including playing dolls.

He doesn’t ask her to play ball or wrestle or dress up like Batman or Captain Jack Sparrow. He knows…what’s the point?

I can sympathize. I know the feeling. Little siblings look up to their big siblings; doesn’t matter the sex.

I guess with my daughter being the older one she will never be the tom-boy that I was and never be a rough and tumble kind of a girl. And, my son, the baby of the family, will make a wonderful sensitive husband one day.

I guess that’s the difference between a big brother vs. a little brother.