I had never considered, until this past weekend, how dramatically different your life would be if you had an older sister, instead of an older brother; an one who is significantly older: Jack is nearly 5 and half years older than you.
When he is a senior in high school, you’ll be in 8th grade. Not only is he a different gender, but he’ll also always be in a different stage of childhood.
And I really like it that way.
I like how he naturally takes care of you, even if I’m understandably a little nervous…
Saturday morning as Jack was getting excited about me taking him to go see Kong: Skull Island, he chose to take on the persona of King Kong.
He built a mountain out of his stuffed animals and our living room sofa.
You were just watching in curiosity, from the kitchen floor as you meticulously dissected a patch of tissue paper.
“Grrrr! Roowwwrrr! Woohrrr!” Jack beat his chest as he gave you a scary look as he tossed debris at you, including a sock and a small stuffed animal.
You weren’t too impressed, but you were paying attention.
Then on Sunday evening, as Mommy was preparing dinner, Jack decided to give you free wrestling lessons.
There shouldn’t have been a big smile on your face the whole time, but there definitely was. You loved it!
I think one of the many advantages of having a much older brother is that, by default, you have no fear.
Not only are you used to the likes of a Kindergartner who pretends to be an angry roaring ape, and who wrestles you on the carpet, but you instinctively know that he’s also quick to protect you with that same strength.
Yeah, things would be much different if you had an older sister instead.