Many years ago, I was a total b*tch to my younger brother. For like the first 20 years of his life. The beginning of this blog takes place in 1981. We were fresh off our move to Florida.
My brother and I were riding our bikes around the front of our rental home. His ride was a babyish vehicle. I had a bad-a** Big Wheel.
The only reason I can easily recall this story is my dad filmed the whole thing with his giant video camera. It was like having a news station capturing your life. Or being the star of a reality TV show before they existed.
My five year old self ran inside for a potty break.
My brother looked around and noticed I was gone. He took this chance to hop on MY BIG WHEEL.
IT'S GOING TO BE WORLD WAR III WHEN SHE COMES BACK OUT. - My dad's narration.
And sure enough it was.
A_______! THAT'S MY BIKE!
I picked up his little tricycle and hurled it into the street. I was like the hulk. But not green. And this ugly interaction became the stuff of legends.
I still yell this phrase to my brother as a joke.
So imagine my delight as I watched Little E hop onto Big E's Spiderman bike after he had gone inside. Little E was so proud of himself as he rode back and forth.
Then I heard the door from the house to the garage slam shut. Big E was back.
And a smile crept onto my face as I knew what was about to happen even before the words escaped his mouth.
LITTLE E, THAT'S MY BIKE! GET OFF!
And with that, I burst into giggles.
The Circle of Life played in my brain and I felt the urge to hold up Big E to the sun and present him as the gift he was.