I was a proud big sister from the moment I saw him.
For the first few years we shared a bedroom. We were constant companions.
I taught him all the important stuff, like how to ask Santa for what you wanted.
Of course we never fought. He never drew on my dolls with markers or pulled the heads off my Barbies. When my friends came over to play, he always left us alone. You can tell just by looking at him that he was an innocent kid.
For awhile I thought he might want to be a rock star (see the kid in the sparkling silver jumpsuit?)…
…or maybe a saxophone player…
…but he always liked hanging out on the beach the best.
So the next time I'm hesitant to research the siblings of my ancestors, I'll think about all the history my brother and I have shared, and hesitate no more. And now that I’ve embarrassed him as only a big sister can, the only thing left to do is wish him a happy birthday. And many, many more!