Those are my sisters, Taylor and Chase. Yep, they are pretty, awesome, and pretty awesome. Growing up with them was a big ball of emotional excitement. Since I was the youngest, they provided me with years of gently (and sometimes roughly) used hand-me-downs. There are tons of great things about having two older sisters, but since getting married and getting a crash course in the world of Men, I feel like a brother would’ve taught me some very important things.
For one, I don’t think I would be so terrified and appalled by the existence of bugs. I would’ve spent so many years finding them in my room or getting them dropped down the back of my shirt that I might have developed a stronger immunity to their creepy-crawliness by now.
Our house was bursting with hairbows, Barbies, and glitter glue. I feel like a little extra testosterone in the house would’ve helped me with my extended tomboy phase, which might’ve been caused by my lack of a brother. I was the one who went hiking with my dad, made mud pies for my dogs, and asked for (and received) an awesome Hot Wheels track for Christmas. Maybe I would’ve grown out of that sooner, or at least had someone to build loop-de-loops with. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so painfully awkward around boys for the first two decades of my life. Maybe by now I would be in the habit of wearing make-up everyday instead of owning a three-year-old tube of mascara that’s still half-full.
I would also have all those fun brother stories that other girls like to tell with each other. Tortured sisters have an unspoken bond as they discuss the horrors they endured as children. I used to know a girl who referred to her little brother as “Icky-Sticky.” As in, “Icky-Sticky snuck in my room and spit on my pillow this morning.” Or, “Icky-Sticky put grape jelly in my American Girl doll’s hair.” I don’t have any of these stories, so I can only stand there and look sympathetic. Having a brother would’ve given me stories to tell, as well as helped me prepare for any icky or sticky things my husband may do.
I wouldn’t change my family, of course. Sometimes I just wonder what it would’ve been like to have a brother. One thing is absolutely certain, though. If I had a brother, I definitely wouldn’t need this book my father-in-law sent me to take care of my cluelessness about sports: