New Responsibilities

I was the oldest son now, the big brother. My brother Carl had blue eyes, like me. He had blond hair, not like me. It would be up to me to teach him the ways of the woods and how to play with trucks in the sand. For now, he just kind of lay there not doing much of anything. One day I figured he must be hungry, so I gave him some bread. A lot of bread. I didn't know that babies couldn't chew,and that they would choke on something like bread, so I fed Carl the bread. Lucky for him mom was nearby and prevented any real damage. I could tell from my mother's reaction that I shouldn't feed Carl bread anymore. Worldly lesson number two: Do Not Feed Your Baby Brother Bread; He Will Choke!
I had to start re-thinking things. It wouldn't be MY room anymore, it would be OUR room. Maybe together we could keep whatever was in the bedroom closet at bay. There was enough love from mom and dad to go around, so no problem there. Whee-Zee, well sure I'd share her, but she'd still be MY dog.
Mom would need my help from now on. I'd help carry the laundry and keep my room tidy and I'd have to keep an eye on Carl while mom was cleaning and cooking.
Best of all I would be running errands on my Rixe. I was ready at a moment's notice to speed down to Trackie's store. Little Jimmy's Messenger Service, that's me. I could be the Pony Express, dodging Indians and robbers all the way down Walnut Ave. and back.
I would try to be a good big brother. My parents were counting on me to be the responsible one, the obedient one, the good one.
Carl, on the other hand, would be a handful at times. He could always manage to find some way to get himself in trouble. He would pour bleach over his head, get his leg caught in the wheel well of my fire truck, and just mess with my stuff.
Like all brothers we would argue and tease, call each other mean and nasty things. There would be a lot of punching and kicking and yelling.
We'd share a bedroom and pets and comic books and friends, and even though he'd drive me crazy over and over and over, I never ever stuffed his face with bread again.