When I refer to The Little Brother, I am doing so in a birth-order specific way. Because he is not in the least bit little. Especially in comparison to yours truly, who doesn't measure over five feet.
The LB was actually little for about twenty minutes of his lifetime. After that, he was able to not only outdistance me in laps around our kitchen, but could also lift tremendous obstacles (i.e. the coffee table that childhood friend Stacie and I were hiding behind) when attempting to catch me in our daily game of let's-see-how-much-we-can-torment-one-another.
Ours has been a brother-sister relationship of mutual conflict and toleration. I put Tobasco sauce on the LB's popcorn ball, he threw a large screwdriver at my head. I took the LB and his friend to the movies (so very uncool), he was the errand boy to carry notes back and forth between my friends.
Despite my best efforts, he's turned out to be a very cool guy. And moreover, he's turned out to be a very good man. A while back, he married himself a very cool girl. And yesterday, they brought this to the world:
A very little girl in his very large hands. Congrats, bro. I couldn't be more proud.