It may be torment

When I was young I did my best to convince my brother that he was actually adopted from China. You can muse over the many ironies there. And, as I pointed to the lack of baby pictures and the dark spiky hair in the one photo we had as evidence, he always returned a look of skepticism. But somewhere along the way I must have cracked a fissure in his disbelief because when he brought his bride-to-be home for the first time and my mother could not find a single photograph of him under the age of three, he came undone. Ever since then, I am reminded at every family gathering of the myriad ways I abused my poor brother - The Sharpie Incident, The Cleaning Incident, The Ugly Smile Incident - mind you all these incidents took place before I turned 9. Yet, here I am, two kids, and poor Numero Dos has drawn the short straw. Ross pointed it out from the very get go - as only a younger sibling could. Since then, I haven't documented Arden's every word (not that there have been many to document) and I haven't mentioned that at 14 months old she still only has five teeth (isn't that CRAZY?) and I definitely haven't posted enough photos. Sawyer just keeps snagging all the firsts. Oh, and - by the way, as it turns out - my brother's son looks just like him as a baby. Aren't those adoption agencies amazing? (Please note: I'm an older sister. I continue to torment whenever possible. Neither my brother nor his baby were actually adopted)