When I was a kid, I shared a room with my baby brother. It drove me nuts. He was always in my way. His stuff was everywhere. And he was so annoying. I know he did a lot of it on purpose. He was little, but he wasn’t that little.

He would leave chewed gum on the floor which would then stick to my toys. He actually broke a lot of my toys. When my buddies came over, he wouldn’t leave us alone.

Don’t get me wrong, he had his moments. He was definitely useful. I could get him to do my bidding. I could easily throw him under the bus when I got into trouble, too. The best thing about having a younger sibling, though? I could mess with him and that’s how I got him back for all the stupid things he’d do.

Sometimes when he slept at night I’d tie his wrist to the blinds and throw his arm around for fun. I’d put his hand in warm water and laughed when he’d wet the bed. I put peanut butter in his hair. I’d hide his favorite blanket before bed. I’d hold him under water – maybe a bit too long. I’d trip him when he’d walk by. I may have pushed him down the stairs. Maybe one time I placed a pillow over his face – but just to scare him a little. Torturing my younger brother just felt awesome, really. No matter what I did, I was bigger and smarter and he was no match for me.

Now that we are older, we are pretty close. I don’t think we would be as close if it wasn’t for all of the bruises, scrapes, and terrible things we did to each other – or mostly what I did to him. Because of that, our sibling rivalry is definitely a no take back.