Thirteen Already !?

     When I was two months short of being two years old, my little brother was born.  He was a big baby weighing almost eleven pounds.  All the normal things that happen when a baby is born happened.  Our Aunt came to take care of Lindy and I.  Everyone was excited.  People made us dinner.  There was a lot of excitement, but eventually things quieted down.  Apparently, I got tired of all the quietness, and decided to make our life a little bit more interesting.
     It happened early on a weekday morning.  My dad was getting ready for work when he heard a horrific noise coming out of the nursery.  It sounded like air being forcefully driven out of someones lungs, and then being raggedly dragged back.  This sound repeated itself several times.
     My dad rushed into the nursery to find me happily jumping on my younger brother.  Dad quickly knocked me off, and scooped up my brother.  He just stared up at my dad and smiled.  He was perfectly fine.
     On the twenty-seventh, that little newborn on whom I jumped turned thirteen.  I can't believe it.  I remember hours of playing in the backyard with him.  We argued over everything.  We made each other cry. Then we apologized because we were bored and needed someone to play with.  He has frustrated me to no end.  He's my best friend, and will point out when I'm at fault even if I don't want him to.
      Even though I jumped on him, he turned out pretty well.  I can't wait to see him grow more in the coming years.  I love my little brother, and I don't know what I would do without him.