For those of you who don't know, my baby brother is about 9 1/2 years younger than me.
That means I changed multiple diapers, read him books, babysat him (and once took care of him when he got a bug while our parents were out on a date), I drove him to our K-12 school for two years, and I nag him to be careful like a mother hen.
We have a joke. "I am not the fun sister." I say. "If you want the fun sister, you need to go to Buffalo." (where his other half-sister and my step-sister Megan lives).
Consequently, my big sister role tends to make me "tough" in front of him. If I'm "being a normal sissy girl", then I'll be one in front of him. But, if I'm truly devastated? I try not to let him see it. When I was literally *heart-broken* over The Guy? I tried to only cry when he wasn't around.
Because I'm the big sister.... I take care of him.
Well, this weekend, I got my heart bruised. It's a long, continuing story that I'm still processing, but my heart is sad.
It was sad enough, that I couldn't contain my tears when I saw him. At first, he was alarmed, because frankly, he doesn't see me like that very often.
A few minutes later, he grabbed me into a hug and told me loved me and wanted to know why I was so sad.
I told him why and cried. Then, he told me that guys are really, really stupid. And, that none of them deserve me.
And, then, I somehow became the little sister being taken care of by a protective big brother.
I'm sure that he will be the annoying little brother in no time flat. But, for the time, it was really, really sweet.