Little Brother

October 21, 2010
I stare at my wide-eyed six year old brother, anticipating the moment in which he shows me his “surprise”. His chubby fingers are caked with dirt, his shaggy brown hair sticking up in various angles. “Are you ready?” he asks, pride glimmers in his eyes and a mischievous smile escapes his lips. He then slowly digs his hand into his right pocket, and his fist emerges… “Chalen, I wanna see, I wanna see!” I shout. Eagerness tops off my words like a cherry on a sundae. “Ok. You asked for it.” He said; a sly smile still hangs on his face. I then begin to rethink my enthusiasm. He holds up his fist and extends his arm as far as he can so that I am right besides the “surprise”.


One by one, each finger releases its grip. I scream, but it’s already too late. A tremendous toad as already managed to jump on my arm! “I named him Cheeto.” Chalen flatly stated. Then, escorted by his laughter, he flees the scene. That leaves me, the elementary school girl, who still believes in the tooth fairy and cooties; to get rid of this nasty pesk.


Unable to make the toad jump off of me, I’m in denial. NO WAY am I going to touch this unwanted amphibian! Then, inch by inch, hop by hop, the toad climbs past my arm, past my elbow, and past shoulder onto my neck. I begin to jump around, shake my arms, and wiggle my legs in hope of getting rid of ‘Cheeto’. Then, my neighborhood friend Pheobe strolls over with two grape push-pops in tow. “Hey Katie, you wanna-WHAT IS THAT ON YOU?!?” she yells, dropping both icy treats in mid-sentence. “Get it off, please!” This is no longer a funny joke; it’s a matter of life and death.


“No way am I touching that thing! They give you warts and pee on you and stuff like that.” Pheobe explains. She’s a year older than me, I have to believe her! Without questioning the reputation I was about to receive, I began to cry. “BABY! BABY! SHE’S A LITTLE CRY BABY!” Pheobe hollers, and in the process manages to stick out two fingers and point them directly at me. This made me feel even worse. Stupid toad. Chalen suddenly pops out of the adjacent bush and drops his toy cars on the soft earth with a clank. “Hey, don’t call my sister a cry baby! And his name is Cheeto, for your im-fer-may-son!” Chalen noted. “Whatcha gonna do about it, six year old?” Pheobe stands her ground, but Chalen is on his tip toes, head held high, and his deep blue eyes already locked on hers. “This.” And with that, Chalen simply turns around and grabs the toad off of me. He then plops the toad in the center of Pheobe’s head, right between her two pig-tails. Pheobe is in shock, how could a six year old do that to her? Without a moment to spare, Pheobe starts to wail.


I was speechless. I turn to my little brother, and am silent. After what seemed like forever, he finally breaks the silence, “I could really use a pudding cup.” I follow him through the front door.





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