Having younger siblings is a gift.

Sometimes that gift is from Satan.

But, nevertheless, having younger siblings is actually a lot of fun.

I have a brother who is now sixteen, and I'm the oldest. He has been nothing short of my best friend since i was five years old, when he was born. I remember it all too, he was so chunky and weird looking because he was a baby, and I got scared when he started to cry when I was visiting my mom and dad in the hospital.

I never really remembered being an only child, the youngest memory I have was meeting my first friend, Spencer, when we were both three. I never really remember much without my brother. When they brought him home, I just didn't know what to think. I don't remember ever being sad or upset, I just didn't know what to do with him. He was so different, and was new in our house.

When I was finishing up the second half of Kindergarten, I was still figuring out my brother. He couldn't really do a lot except make noises and sleep, so when I came home from school and gymnastics practice, I decided that he was going to watch t.v. with me. He still was in the crib in my parents room, so I would pick him up out of it, sit him in my lap on my parents bed and watch whatever was on t.v. My parents didn't really know what to say, so they kinda just let it happen.

This was just a precedent on how our relationship was going to go.

From when he could walk, we did everything together. I use to take him around the neighborhood with me, Spencer and I always tried to include him in whatever we could. We would catch the ice cream man together, swim in the pool together, and I would always get him into the antics that my friends and I thought were a good idea. Like I.E. throwing broken radios out of my window and my mom coming to pick us up as soon as it happened, bike riding to Hannaford for deli chicken and potato wedges, to spray painting random things. Mind you, we weren't wild, we just did what regular kids did when you were old enough to stay home during the summer while mom and dad worked.

I enjoyed watching him grow up, considering he's had all the same teachers (for the most part) that I had through school.

But being five and a half years apart can sometimes be really hard.

I moved to Tennessee when he was starting seventh grade, and he was the hardest person to leave. He was my partner in crime, and my best bud. We did everything together. How could I leave my favorite person?

Well, as time went on and as he got older, coming home was always a little more fun each time, because he's now sixteen and I'm helping him get his first job (eek!). He now drives me, and sometimes even pays for things!. But, he now flies to me all the time, and we always go on some adventure. This past year he came down for a month in the Summer, and then in November twice, once to go see the Vols in Knoxville and the next day to see the Packers play the Titans in Nashville (football obsession is hereditary), and then came down for Thanksgiving with my Dad to go see the Vols in Nashville. I take him everywhere when I'm home, and my friends don't care, they never have. He's also like their little brother- most of my friends back home hang out with him without me, and I think it's the greatest thing that I've ever seen.

Little brothers can sometimes be the biggest pain the ass you've ever had, but they also are the built-in best friend that your parents gave you.