Okay, so I can’t promise that this blog post will be 1,000 words, but this picture does have a story & I feel it’s appropriate because it’s National Siblings Day & this guy’s birthday was a couple days ago.

One Christmas I got a Playmobil doll house. It was fully furnished & had flower boxes outside every window. It had three floors & all the doors & windows opened & closed (amazing, right?). It was left under the tree, already perfectly assembled, with a huge bow on top. It was glorious…but it didn’t last for long. You see, although I was unaware of it at the time, little brothers have an undeniable & inherent instinct to destroy. However, I was not privy to this information until post-destruction. You see, I was the oldest, which meant that I dictated what, when & where we played. Whether it was Barbies or Lion King, in the end, it was up to me, because I ran the show. Life was good then, simpler.

But the power had made me blind. I didn’t fear for the heads of my Barbies or worry about my Polly Pockets retiring to a watery grave in the toilet because I held complete control, or so I thought.

It may have been the realization that they outnumbered me, or the beginnings of male testosterone, but that Christmas, things changed & they turned on me. Amongst the chaos of wrapping paper & eggnog, the precious doll house which I had naively left unguarded, crumbled into pieces in a manner of seconds. Tears of disbelief stained my wedding-Cinderella nightgown & I asked myself who could have committed such a horrid deed. As I tried to soothe my tears with the Christmas orange from my reindeer stocking, the sweet taste of the fruit disappeared & my mouth was suddenly filled with the bitter taste of betrayal.

I saw this little boy in blue with a balcony in his hands, & an innocent look on his face.

My brothers had destroyed my precious doll house & would destroy it again, & again, & again. Through hot-glue & super glue, they were never satisfied & I would never again play with my doll house in one piece.

Years later, I still haven’t forgotten the dollhouse incident, but I also haven’t forgotten that these boys have made me the person I am today. Even though I am a little outnumbered, I wouldn’t want it any other way.