Today is my brother’s birthday!
The one immediately younger than me, not one of the others.
He’s turning 15. He’s gonna start driver’s ed soon. Next thing you know, he’ll be moving out!
I’m happy. And I got him a super awesome present. And his cake is gonna be yum. (Orange chiffon. Fancy, right? Also, smells great).
But here’s the deal about his birthday.
It’s three days before mine.
His is June 26th (duh), and if you can do math, you’ll have figured out by now that mine is the 29th.
Here’s the deal about that.
I hate it.
I love him. I’m always happy to celebrate his birthday with him.
But ever since I was little, the stark injustice of him getting his birthday party 3 agonizing days before mine, even though I’m 2 years older.
Is this petty? Yes.
Is it true nonetheless? Also yes.
It bothers me less now that we’re older – both because I’m (only slightly) more patient, and neither of us really has birthday parties any more – but don’t think it doesn’t bug me. It does.
You may feel inclined to point out to me that both my second youngest brother and sister also have birthdays before me.
But, see, my second youngest brother’s birthday is 5 months before mine, and my sister’s 3 weeks. When it’s not as close, it’s not upsetting, see. The closeness of my younger brother’s birthday is what makes it laaaaaaame.
I’m silly and immature.
But, if you read this blog … what else is new?
Happy Birthday to my brother.