Dear little brother,

I remember when my parents told me I was going to have a little brother or sister. I was so excited. Then, they found out you were a boy so everyone asked me if I was excited to have a little brother. I said yes, even though I wanted a sister. Even being six years old, I knew I couldn't change that you were going to be a boy.

You were born a few months later, and I was so excited. I got to hold a baby all the time now! That was cool. For a while I actually liked you. Yeah, you smelled sometimes, but that's what babies do.

When you were one, the sibling rivalry started. I remember wanting the leftover mac and cheese that you also wanted, and when I picked you up to carry you to mom, you bit my shoulder. Jerk. And as soon as you learned how to throw, I was your first target.

We used to fight all the time. I whipped you with my karate belt, and you threw dirt in my eyes. You stole my jump rope, so I chased you around the house until you slipped and cut your head, causing you to get stitches. I still think I'm not at fault for that eight years later.

Now we still hate each other, but we get along sometimes. Like, I'll buy you a slushy and get mad when you don't say thank you. I also don't really mind being your taxi driver because you're fun to have in the car with me. You always try to rap all the music I put on, but if Fetty Wap's song "679" comes on, you know every word and I think it's the funniest thing. I love playing country music for you because you always pretend you don't like it, but I'll catch you singing along.

Maybe we don't hang out as much as we used to, but it's fine with me because we get along better. Do not mistake that as me saying you don't get on every single nerve I have, because you do, I can just handle you better.

When I go to college this August, I'm waiting for a call from the house phone with you crying and saying you miss me because I know how you are and how you have the tough guy charade on the outside but you're a little cry-baby on the inside.

I'll be a half hour from home, and no matter how far I go, you're always the first and most annoying pain in the butt I've had and there's nothing I'd trade that for.

Thanks for being a jerk to me all these years, thanks for always stinking so bad that my nose knows how lucky it is to be in the fresh air, thank you for humbling me with your constant insults, and thank you for always being annoying because sometimes I enjoy it.

Sincerely,

Your older sister.