I'm so very proud of my not-so-little anymore litte brother. I love him so much, and love seeing him grow into such a respectible, handsome young man. I can't wait for him to be in my shoes, and marrying some awesome girl. Ok, maybe I can wait, college is going to be so much fun for him.
But really, I love us growing up. We had so much fun as kids. Well, I think he and our little sister had more fun that me. I'm a bit older than them both, and my mom used to work nights, so all summer long I'd have to watch them while she tried to get some sleep. Our day's usually consisted of some form a torture: my tying my sister to a tree with a jump rope or tricking my brother into thinking a dog treat was a peice of beef jerky and laughing hysterically while I watched him eat the whole thing. I'm laughing now just remembering it! :)
Maybe that wasn't everyday - more often than not, the two of them were ganging up on me, hiding on me or getting me in trouble, which always worked. "Danielle - you're the oldest...." blah, blah blah. lol. We have so many great memories of family camping trips, sitting around the fire singing, or excursions to theme parks where I always forced my brother to ride the roller coasters with me. (He used to be a big chicken and would scream like a girl, but I think my hard work paid off and he likes them now.)