Growing up, my brother and I didn’t have the best of relationships. He was the typical pesky little brother and I was a total bitch. The moments when we actually got along were incredibly few and far between. Most times, they involved me bossing him around and him relishing the attention that I was briefly giving him. I recall dressing him up in my clothes and parading him along the main street we lived on, complete with jelly bracelets and lipstick. He didn’t even flinch. (And, no, he is neither gay nor a cross dresser. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.)
There was a brief period where we played teacher and student. We ripped apart every Highlights and National Geographic we owned and glued them on the walls of the basement, transforming it into a classroom. We knew what we were doing was wrong, but it was fun. And we were in it together. We figured we’d deal with the consequences later, and it was totally worth it. To our surprise, there were no consequences. Our parents were so thrilled to have us playing together, that I think we could have done just about anything.
Unlike my brother and I, Lily and Ben play happily together for hours. They play zoo and safari and post office. They tell each other stories and have dance parties. Last night, they were quieter than usual. After about an hour, they came down, giddy with excitement. We’ve been having so much fun, Lily squealed. Come see what we did!
And there it was. All of their artwork lining the stairs. Tape, broken off craft pieces and remnants of chalk littered the floor. It’s a classroom, Ben chimed in. Isn’t it so cool?
And it was.
I’m fully expecting the cross dressing to start shortly. And there won’t be anything wrong with it.
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When we were little, I used to play with my brother (2 years my junior), but only if he would be “Martha.” Martha and I shopped, made dinner, took care of our kids… I think it was a couple of years before Matt realized that Martha was a girl’s name. I even found an old drawing from nursery school. It was a rather androgenous little person with “Matew” written at the top and “Marta” written at the bottom. So I have documentation of my cruelty.
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Seven years apart, my brother and I didn’t get along at all. I, too, dressed him in girl’s clothing. I wonder how many Gen X guys named Matt were tortured in this manner? Sounds like almost all of them. haha
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Unlike you, I am really close to my siblings. Being the youngest in the family, I was trained to be bossed around (that’s when I was little). As I grow up, I have learned also to resist it. There would be some arguments but my parents would always come in between us. They always managed to iron things out. Maybe sometimes parents do have to make us, as siblings, realize that if there are people we should love and respect – that’s our family.
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