Surviving a Four Year Old

I have a four year old brother. My dad decided to continue with his lineage at the age of 54. Brave man. I love my two baby siblings. Probably more than just about anybody. I see them maybe every other week. I'd been missing my brother in particular, so I was really looking forward to yesterday afternoon. So, you can imagine my disappointment when--in a fit of utter fatigue--my little brother Luke decided to take all his grumpiness on me.

It started with "You're poo." Continued with pretending to shoot me and announcing, "You're dead." Followed by dinnertime badgering "Stop talking! I don't want YOU to talk!" everytime I opened my mouth. The grand finale was him yelling at me at bed time, "I don't like 'I love you' to you. You're not my family! You're not my friend!" To which I finally gave up all attempts of love offers and funny faces and said good night.

Sometimes I think four year old boys and seventh grade girls have A LOT in common.