I wrote this not long after one of my kid's birthday parties when I looked around at all the new toys and thought, "This is too much....too much." Yet I wanted to capture the experience from the perspective of a four-year-old with all the responsibility of an older brother.
Brother, let me tell you that I am so proud of you for having a birthday. Truly, this is a momentous day for you to have won the affection of so many who are so willing to bestow us with the new tube of mini plastic dinosaurs, the pair of foam swords, your new Roman style helmet and chest plate armor, our new large cardboard box filled with some such or other of a tricycle or something, oh and all these new toys will surely heighten our brotherly bond. To be honest, last year I did not focus on your birthday due to the anxiety surrounding the recent mastery of my bladder and I had urinated inside my pants. This year however, I was highly focused and very clenched.
And I realized something: your birthday – along with my own and Santa’s – is such a bountiful day for our little playroom. From here on out we are no longer merely brothers; we are allies. In the interest of growing our collective worth in toys I will no longer torment or ask you to test possible food items I find– I am committed to your survival. You must admit dear brother, surviving has been difficult for both of us. Do you recall the time you scaled the counter and gained access to the ice pick? Remember, Mother did not understand, “What the hell was going on?” If she did she would have moved the cookies into a more attainable spot. Without your brotherly love and the cracker you found under the couch we would have surely starved to death that day
Also, dear brother, do you recall almost dying of a broken heart when the next-door neighbor let his dogs into our yard? Father did not understand they were growling at each other, quarreling over whom was to receive our attention first. He was much too harsh with them. Yelling at those poor creatures scared them far too much. Visions of their muscular shoulders and jaws clenching, flexing, and bulging with fright still permeate my mid-afternoon nap dreams. Fright has paralyzed those dogs’ once carefree spirit, why I have not even seen them in their own back yard since Father chased them off into the forest with a shovel.
Yes, it is safe to say our parents are quite inept at caring for us or understanding our success. Mother and Father shared none of our triumph when we acted independently, finding and eating all the Halloween candy. We did it all by ourselves and all they did was ask God to dam something. And how are we to rely on parents who can barely stay awake the following day after we were up sick all night. I for one have very little confidence in a man’s fathering abilities after watching him cry over a gurgling toilet stuffed with wiping papers. It seems our survival is up to us poor brother, so we must stick together.
And I realized something: your birthday – along with my own and Santa’s – is such a bountiful day for our little playroom. From here on out we are no longer merely brothers; we are allies. In the interest of growing our collective worth in toys I will no longer torment or ask you to test possible food items I find– I am committed to your survival. You must admit dear brother, surviving has been difficult for both of us. Do you recall the time you scaled the counter and gained access to the ice pick? Remember, Mother did not understand, “What the hell was going on?” If she did she would have moved the cookies into a more attainable spot. Without your brotherly love and the cracker you found under the couch we would have surely starved to death that day
Also, dear brother, do you recall almost dying of a broken heart when the next-door neighbor let his dogs into our yard? Father did not understand they were growling at each other, quarreling over whom was to receive our attention first. He was much too harsh with them. Yelling at those poor creatures scared them far too much. Visions of their muscular shoulders and jaws clenching, flexing, and bulging with fright still permeate my mid-afternoon nap dreams. Fright has paralyzed those dogs’ once carefree spirit, why I have not even seen them in their own back yard since Father chased them off into the forest with a shovel.
Yes, it is safe to say our parents are quite inept at caring for us or understanding our success. Mother and Father shared none of our triumph when we acted independently, finding and eating all the Halloween candy. We did it all by ourselves and all they did was ask God to dam something. And how are we to rely on parents who can barely stay awake the following day after we were up sick all night. I for one have very little confidence in a man’s fathering abilities after watching him cry over a gurgling toilet stuffed with wiping papers. It seems our survival is up to us poor brother, so we must stick together.
No gesture could convey the importance of this message, but I hope you’ll accept this hastily made birthday card. I’m not implying it needs clarification, but the picture on the front is a monster, wishing you happy birthday and on the inside you’ll see I’ve irreverently used the stickers from our Barnyard Animals collection. Do forgive me if I misspelled your name for you see I have not yet learned the spelling of “DAN.”
So again, brother, please accept my very sincere wish of Happy Birthday.
As the oldest sister, this resonates....
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