This Kid

Sometimes he can be annoying. Sometimes he comes home from a friends' house and has a gross anecdote that he's dying to tell me. Sometimes he turns all sweet and wants a hug. Sometimes he'll run into my room and ask me to play a game of pool. Sometimes he'll go to the park with me, whether to play frisbee or catch or to let me take photos of him.

What do all these things have in common? They all make him a brother. My brother. My baby brother. And I couldn't imagine life without him.

The thing is, this kid isn't such a baby anymore. In fact, he won't be a kid for much longer. So I want to treasure these days. These days that we can still spend time together every. single. day.

Yeah, sometimes I'm not as nice to him as a could (or should) be, sometimes I get irritated with him, but I love him. I love his little quirks - the way he puts his hands in his pockets (trying to be just like my big brothers), the single dimple that appears with his smile, the crooked smile that he gives me when he's annoyed with me but I say something funny, the way his dark brown eyes light up when he talks about something he's passionate about.

I love this kid that hates nicknames.

I love this kid that sings loudly and out of tune with me in the car.

I love this kid that insists that the deadbolt be locked when my parents aren't home.

I love this kid named Joseph. Or Joe. Or Jose.

I love my little brother and I always will (even when he's not so little anymore).