This fruity smiley is dedicated to my fruitcake of a brother - Michael.On a sweltering August day my little brother made his way out of the womb and into the harsh reality that my sibs and I call family. As the youngest of 5, he would soon learn the pecking order, but only after we allowed him a few years of baby bliss; that gentle period in his life where we all adored the little piglet of a brother named Michael.
They say that children don't remember much before the age of 3 or 4 and in Michael's case, this is really too bad because it was during his first few years that we whole-heartedly loved and respected him. If he had known better, he may not have chosen to speak considering that once he learned to talk, or talk back rather, the grace period would be over.
At first, I was a an affectionate big sister who adored the chubby mass better known as Mikey (AKA Michael, AKA Piker, AKA Motormouth, AKA Dorkbreath). However, sometime after he turned three, I started to use him to amuse myself.
In my pre-teen years I loved to play dress-up and my toddler of a brother was only too happy to be my model. With a touch of make-up, a frilly dress and my mother’s hairpiece, Michael became Michelle and he/she/it seemed to enjoy the attention as I gleefully paraded him around the neighborhood in his little red wagon. And even though he was small, he didn’t show any signs of weakness as he held up a big sign that read, “Women’s Lib is #1.” Along with the sign, I would have had him singing Helen Reddy's "I Am Woman" but he was still a year or two shy of being able to memorize anything more than a few words. Instead, I settled for something more age-appropriate like, “Two, four, six, eight, women’s lib is really great.” which he was perfectly able to recite on queue and on key.
I'm pretty sure that Michael does not remember any bit of this experience, but he often relives it through me as I thoroughly enjoy recounting the precious details for him. My only wish is that I had some pictures to go with this story to taunt him further.
Mikey, now 35 or so, has two children of his own and they are both girls. He’s still playing dress-up, but the hairpiece doesn’t get much use anymore, and that’s ironic because now he could really use it.
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This is so creative! I am completely impressed and you put such a smile on my face :) It is so nice to hear stories of Mike's childhood, especially happy ones. Keep it up- I would love to read more. You have made me think about it- I love to write but have not yet found my way in. I am sure you understand.
Ahhh, little Mikey.
I first met him when he was about 4 years old. He was collecting bottle caps, and I had had a pop, and was about to flip the bottle cap into the garbage, and he wrenched it from my fingers, as if I were pitching a gold nugget into a bottomless pit. He gave me a look of "just try to get this back". And being a middle child, gave in to this feisty youngest child.
To this day, Michael impresses me with his up-front energy.
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