Little brothers are so annoying. Sure, you usually care about them when they’re hurt or crying or something like that. But in my opinion, they’re just crazy little things that claim to be related to us. I never knew that I could be so worried about my brother. * * * The smiling sun shone brightly down on my back as I walked happily down the sidewalk.

My mother always wanted a little girl. One who would wear frilly pink dresses and bows and barrettes in her hair and would play with dolls and have tea parties with china and have perfect manners and would take ballet and would grow up to marry a fine young gentleman and then have some more lovely children. But she got me. At first, when it was announced that I was a girl, she cried with joy.