Pesky

On January 7, 1985 my parents gifted me with a very dubious present--a pesky little brother who would go on to spend years of his life pestering me while convincing our parents of his general awesomeness.  They only see the fact that he is slightly taller than me (a foot is nothing in the grand scheme of things if you ask me) and slightly more athletic than me (the trophy case in my parent's house has exactly one trophy that does not boast of his glories, and I'm pretty sure that mine was one of those given to everyone who participated).  Then, take into consideration the facts that he is not only younger than me but also male, and you cannot be surprised that he always got away with everything I didn't.  Don't mention to me TVs in bedrooms because I've never gotten over him getting one when I was never, ever allowed to even consider that idea.  Curfews are also a sore subject.  ...10 years later....

Now, Curtis just finds new ways to pester me, like beating up my husband:

Buying my daughter Christmas presents with literally 17 twist ties that have to be individually undone in order to extricate the pieces from the box:

Teaching my son to sing "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Clause" and then to immediately become grossed out by the very idea:

Using my son as a basketball and attempting to throw him into the hoop after Aunt Jenna's ball game:

And, while there is no photographic evidence of the rest of this tragic tale, I can only promise its veracity--single handedly causing me to lose two consecutive games of Ticket to Ride followed by a dastardly and soul-crushing defeat in Royal Hearts.

Luckily, I managed to come back and own him in our last game of the season.  Years from now, looking back on the Christmas season 2010, only one pertinent fact will remain: I came out on top.  Where I belong, naturally ;)