Day 3 - Your favorite people, in great detail

I think I’d write about my youngest brother. I was 11 when he was born, and in days or nights when my parents were not around, I was like a mom to him. He’s 10 now, too tall for his age, but still acts like a small kid. Maybe partly because we treat him that way, particularly me, because he’s the youngest and when he came to us, he was a delightful surprise. My mom wasn’t young when she had him, too, so it was really unexpected.

Unlike me and my siblings, though, who were consistently honor students when we were young, my favorite brother and most favorite person is more interested in play more than work or anything else. Sometimes I would try to tutor him before exams, but he would complain that I’m too strict. And then he would try to evade and sleep, watch TV or play instead.

But like me he could be mushy and sensitive. Sometimes he would tell me that unlike us, he won’t ever get a medal. As his sister, it breaks my heart to hear it from him and I pity him sometimes. Maybe he’s really not as intelligent as my siblings, or maybe we’re too lax in monitoring him, or my parents have become so busy to help him in school work. But I still believe in him. I would often tell him that if he would only study and work hard, he’d get even more awards than we did. 

He grew up really talkative. When he was younger and we had these long trips, he was our only entertainment even if we’re driving alone in a secluded place late at night. He would tell us ridiculous stories he believed to be real. 

In most times he’s just like a little kid, but he could be quite mature, too, sometimes. Because we’re not living with our parents anymore, he’s the only one who’s with my mom usually. When my mom has problems, he would give her advices that you wouldn’t believe could come from someone his age. When my mom and dad argue, he’d be in between, telling them to calm down, even if he’s a little scared and almost in tears. Sometimes you would think he’s just playing while you’re having a serious conversation with someone, but then you’d realize that he was actually listening when he tells or asks you something about it.

He’s a sweet little boy and I love him.