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A brother, what a bother!

I wrote a new song today, you might like to hear it. “What a bother, to have a brother” is its title. I didn’t get much further on the song but I think I’d have a lot to write about… well, because I have a BROTHER and he’s a BOTHER. In my song, I could list all the ways that he’s a bother. Like when he sings non stop and extra loud in the toilet or shower. I guess cause it’s kind of echoey and he thinks no one else can hear just as good as he can because the doors are closed. I’ve tried that technique out myself and it does work quite well, especially when I need to practice my voice just before a show or choir.

Anyway, I’d go on and list how he’s always tattling on me to Dad and Mom, when he could just tell me things himself. Then he hits me for little things I do that he doesn’t like. I do poke him sometimes or tickle him. He laughs for a while, then all of a sudden he gets his mean face on and yells and says “Stop it!” He says bad words about me like “I wish you wouldn’t exist.” or “You have no brain.” All those things make me feel really really low, like if I could crawl on the floor and hide under the table. No, better yet under the carpet. There I could just disappear until those bad thoughts about me go away.

But when he’s a nice brother, he’s a really NICE brother and I don’t think I’d want any other brother that I’ve met. He sings real nicely and boldly. He asks me to come and play with him in the yard, he plays cars or pets with me when I ask him to, even though he really doesn’t feel like it. We’ll hang out as I draw and he writes. He’s funny, he’s good looking and he’s smart. He’s faithful to do the dishes when it’s his turn on it, yesterday he shared some of his special snack with me…. I guess my list could get rather long for this part too. I do feel better thinking this way.

Hey, what if I wrote a song about the things I like instead of the sometimes bothersome brother that he is? Do you have a brother? What’s YOUR best thing about having a brother?

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The body book

My parents are into all this teaching about the body thing. They told Brother and I that it’s the age we should learn about it because we will hear things at school or from our friends and they want us to have the right knowledge about it. But I don’t get what could be the wrong knowledge? I started experiencing puberty, says all the books and my dad and mom. Why? Well I have a little few spots on my face (sometimes) and I have a different sort of smell on my body, especially coming from under my arms. Didn’t know that there was even anything under there. But the other day after my shower, I lift up my arms in front of the mirror to brush my hair and… Yikes! Scary! Icky! I’ve got a few hairs under there! Is that puberty too?

Lots of other weird feelings and emotions going on inside of me too; sometimes some growing pains or cramps. I do want to grow up and become beautiful and independent, responsible for my own things so that I don’t have to be told what to do anymore. But, I still want to be young too, to get to play with toys, be babied or given extra attention (and gifts), not have to clean up after myself or learn a whole bunch of things like taking care of my room or cleaning my body and doing my laundry and all that. I guess that’s a bit mixed up cause on one hand I want to be big and grown up so I can use Mom’s clothes and shoes, but then on the other I want to be little and small so I don’t have to fold and put them away or wash them after I use them on. How can I just stay in the middle and have the best of both worlds? Well, I guess I did experience a bit of that lately. Brother has more responsibilities in our house, than I do, cause he’s older, Mom says. He’s waiting for the day that I get to be just as old as him, but he doesn’t realize that I’ll always be a couple years younger, hee.

Mom wants to read this “Girl’s Body” book with me, but I’m just not into that right now. Doesn’t she realize that I want to stay young as long as I can? Because I’ll be old for the rest of my life and I’ll get used to that when I get there. Most of the body stuff, I experience it on my own body anyway. I don’t have to read about someone else’s, do I? Plus, I know God made us all different. No one has exactly the same body type, figure, shape or size. So what is normal for someone else may not even be normal for me. Mom’s such a mom. She wants to help me understand things so that when they come up, I’ll know what to do. But I can always ask her then, can’t I? Thanks Mom, for letting things pass in their good time and for understanding my body needs. I know I can count on you to always be there for me, especially or these “girly” things. But I need some alone time too, without this “body” knowledge getting pushed on me quite yet.

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The Boom Box

I know that I don’t talk much about my brother in my writings. Maybe cause it’s all about ME. But I do need to add him in here once in a while because Brother and Sister do go together. I couldn’t be a sister if I didn’t have a brother. It takes both of us, just as is the old saying that Mom and Dad like to say because their mom and dad told them because the grandparents told them… kind of thing… “It takes two to fight!” We get that one a lot between brother and sister, especially when Brother wants to get me in trouble so says that I did something when I actually really did something else. Or he likes to paint the picture of me really black when it’s only a little big gray, which means that I didn’t do something so so bad like he says I did. Maybe I just made a little mistake. Anyway, Mom says it’s also a typical thing between brother and sister. She should know, she has 4 brothers and 4 sisters. Gosh! And Gosh again! I don’t know how I could manage that many in my family. And especially not with my kind of Brother.

We had a nice and cozy lunch and all of a sudden Brother bashes on the table and starts his one man show with singing at the top of what his voice can go. And then he gets up from his stool, (still in the middle of lunch) and he dances and stamps around the kitchen floor. It’s like we have our own concert going on, without even having to pay for it. We were having a conversation, mind you. But once the show began, neither of us could hear ourselves talking anymore. Dad called him the MUSIC BOX though I think I would have rather called him the BOOM BOX!! Sometimes Dad plays along with it and joins in the singing and crazy dancing. Mom goes up to Brother and gives him a hug to try to calm him down. It doesn’t always work but only makes him sing even louder. Mom doesn’t like such loud noises close to her ears. She doesn’t even let me whistle next to her. She says it hurts her ears. Poor Mom. She really misses out on my nice whistling. I get that from Dad, I think. Cause she can’t even whistle more than one note and for one second at a time.

Well, after our lunch was finished “Boom Box” moved his show upstairs to his room, which is close to my room, so “the show went on” and all to myself, you could say. Sometimes it calms down a bit, while Brother writes his other new song and then it gives me some peace to think of my own thoughts.

I love my crazy, noisy brother. It wouldn’t be as much fun without him, even though he is a bit loud sometimes. But it would be boring and too quiet without him, I think.

I do have a cat to make up for him though. Today at lunch, I think she joined in with his singing too. Though her song went a little more like this:

“I’m hungry! Doesn’t anyone ever feed me?
I did get food an hour ago, but I’m still very hungry.
Actually, I’m starving here! Doesn’t anyone hear me!
Poor me! Poor me! Poor me!
Feed me! Feed me! Feed me!
I’m Mimi, Mimi, Mimi.
If you love me, feed my tummy, tummy, tummy!”