Then my brother was jealous of me.
You know what? It’s OK, friends. It’s natural. I’m his older sister, and it’s hard being a baby brother sometimes especially when the big kid gets to go do big-kid stuff. I get it.
Except Jeff ruined jealousy because, in typical little-brother fashion, he was jealous about all the wrong things. The writing stuff? He was only congratulatory and awesome and supportive and blah-blah-blah-my-sister’s-a-writer-whatever which was all part of his jerky little baby plan. No, it wasn’t the writing fun that bothered him. Jeff was jealous about the pants-pooping.
So, fine. There you have it. For the record, and in the interest of sibling harmony, I’ve got nothing on Jeff when it comes to pooping pants:
And our parents wondered if we’d ever get along. Pfft. Parents, you guys.