I Love My Little Brother

After being an only child for ten years, it was the weirdest feeling knowing that I now had a baby brother. I felt a new sense of responsibility, paired with apprehension and excitement. It was almost difficult to appreciate since I had been the center of attention for so long. Despite our large age gap, I was confident that I would be the perfect sister and role model for my new brother.

When my brother turned three, my parents asked me to teach him how to spell and write his name. I eagerly embarked on this task. What could be so difficult? It is only four letters: N-E-I-L.

I quickly discovered that my new job was far from easy. My idea of myself being a patient and warm-hearted sister was thrown out the window. My brother’s restless and mischievous nature hindered me from teaching him anything at all. As a figure of authority, I initially felt compelled to discipline him; in my 14-year-old mind, he had to be obedient, bright, and lovable. In hindsight, I was unreasonable, expecting him to be constantly attentive and not cry at the slightest reprimand. I thought being firm would be in his best interest.

I could attribute this shortsightedness to my own expectations in life. I am a self-professed perfectionist with the perseverance to work well past midnight just to perfect that 1,000 word paper. I projected my expectations for myself and my peers onto my little brother, treating him like a grown-up. I took my ‘job’ too seriously, overlooking that he simply needed my support and gentle tolerance.

Ultimately, I learned how to teach my brother, bringing joy into his learning and using words of encouragement instead of criticism. When he made mistakes, I would say, ‘Neil is a smart boy, so he’ll surely get it right the second try’ instead of ‘That’s wrong. Try again.” I felt a sense of pride as he eagerly awaited my teaching. In no time, he was able to spell and write his name.

The patience, dedication, and selflessness required really made me appreciate my parents more as I can empathize with when they were bringing me up. I also became a much more tolerant person as I learned to overlook when my brother “borrowed” my pens to “decorate” my walls. Since 2011, I have learned something new about my brother every single day: his gurgled speech, his dance moves, his tantrums, and his endearing kisses on my cheeks.

My brother showed me how to be a sister, a daughter, and a friend. The seven years with him have flown by; it seems like just yesterday the emotions of that eventful day during freshman year surged through me. As I will soon go off to college, I will treasure the remaining eight months that I am spending with him. I hope that fifteen years down the road, when I may have my own children and when he just graduates from college, we remain the best of siblings.