The Difference between Boys and Girls (under age eight)

            BOYS                                                              GIRLS

  1. During a snowball fight, my round               1. During a snowball fight,

      plastic sled is a good Captain                          my round plastic sled is a

     America shield.                                               good place to pile up snowballs.

                                                                            

  2. A spatula or ruler is a good                         2.  A spatula is for lifting food, a
     sword. A dead branch                                      ruler is for measuring, and a

     is a good gun.                                                 dead stick goes in the fireplace.

                                                                          

  3. A peanut-butter-and-jelly                            3. A peanut-butter-and-jelly

    sandwich is a good snack before                     sandwich is too yucky to touch.

    lunch or dinner.

  4. A coffee table is a good place                     4. I’m not allowed to put my feet

     to jump onto the sofa.                                     or my drink or my paints on the

                                                                          coffee table

  5. A coffee table also makes a                         5. We’re not allowed to play near

    good wall for a fort.                                           the coffee table!

  6. If there’s no blood, I’m OK.                         6. If there’s blood, call 9-1-1.

  7. If I climb onto a chair and the                       7. No climbing in the house!

    dining room table, the chandelier

    makes a good trapeze.

  8. My backpack can hold bread                       8. My backpack holds my 

     and cheese for a week in my                            pencils and papers and lunch 

     fort.                                                                for school.

  9. Clothes are optional in the house.                  9. I love my polka-dotted tights 

                                                                             and tutu so much I want to 

                                                                             wear them to bed!

10. “Poop” and “fart” are the most                     10. “Poop” and “fart” are the most

      fun words my Dad says.                                   fun words my Dad says.

11. Dirt and sticks and a ball are                        11. Mom’s phone is my favorite toy.

      my favorite toys.

12. Bathrooms are supposed to smell.                12. I don’t go in the bathroom after

                                                                              my brother uses it.

13. If there's a towel, I don't need                       13. I sing “Happy Birthday” three 

      soap to wash my hands.                                     times while I wash my hands.

14. Pillow fights are the best!                              14. Don’t anyone touch my pillow!

15. Sheets make good ghost costumes                15. My brother won’t touch my 

      if you cut eye holes.                                            sheets because they have

                                                                               flowers on them.

16. My sister is scared of snakes.                        16. I hate my brother!

17. I don’t know how to clean up.                         17. I love to help Mama clean!

18. My sister is a tattle-tale!                                 18. My brother is always starting

                                                                                 trouble.

19. No, I don’t have to pee again.                        19. Grandma, I have to go to the

      I just went before we got to this place.                 bathroom again.

20. Grandma, here are two                                   20. Grandma, would you please 

      Spidey books to read.                                          read this Fancy Nancy book 

                                                                                to me? I love you

                                                                                very much, Grandma!

The Little Brother/Sister Syndrome

This blog post is by friend, mystery writer, and pharmacist Don Weiss.

They say the two unavoidable constants in life are death and taxes. There is however a third, which I call the little brother/sister syndrome.

No matter how old one gets, if you’re the last to emerge from your mother’s womb, you are forever tarred with the stigma of being the little brother or sister.  My 102-year-old aunt still refers to her 94-year-old brother as her "little brother." My own brother will be 69 years old. I will forever and always be his "little brother," even though I’m three inches taller and fifteen pounds heavier.

The first born is the experimental child. Mother and father are learning how to be parents. By the time the last one comes around, they’ve practiced enough on the first born so that (and I quote from older siblings) “you got away with murder.”  As a little brother, I don’t think I got away with murder - maybe involuntary manslaughter.

Of course you also suffer from the sin of comparison, especially when you're just young enough to have some of the same teachers as your older sibling. And if you’re not quite as good in arithmetic or science and you have a tendency to have notes sent home from school, well, you really suffer from the sin of comparison.

It’s not all bad being a little brother or sister. You tend to compartmentalize the negative and "accentuate the positive":  the countless Saturday matinees, the visits to the science museum, the time he helped you paint your model Corvette or protected you from a neighbor hood bully.  These outweigh the multiple times he jumped out from behind a doorway and scared the hell out of you, especially after you just watched Boris Karloff in the movie "Frankenstein." You remember the time he saved you from choking on a piece of licorice, which far outweighs the number of times he conned you into cutting the grass and doing the dishes when it was really his turn.

Little brothers and sisters also serve other purposes. Having a cute little brother who has lost his two front teeth is almost as good as having a puppy when it comes to your teenage big brother trying to charm a teenage girl into making out with him at the movies. The cardinal rule for little brothers is to keep your mouth shut and you'll get as much popcorn and soda as your seven year old bladder can hold.

As you grow older, some of the big brother—little brother gap closes. You share a beer together when you turn sixteen. You stay up late reminiscing into the small hours of the morning on the night your big brother’s daughter is born. Or two years later you rescue your niece from a house fire and for one brief shining moment little brother becomes a hero. Sometimes the roles reverse, like when your mother dies and you have to assume total charge of everything, including the eulogy.

All my first cousins have lost at least one brother. Me—I’m pretty lucky. In my sixties I still have a big brother alive and well, for whom I will forever and always remain—his little brother.

Memories from a Chilly Basement

Courtesy of bing.com

This nostalgia piece is by friend and practicing pharmacist Don Weiss.  Don is the author of three detective/mystery novels, including Picture Perfect.

Hobbies

For those of us of a certain vintage, there was nothing better than getting the Lionel or American Flyer catalog right before Christmas. We drooled over the color illustrations of streamliners, steam engines, passenger cars, and accessories.  My big brother had a terrific Flyer set and every year about a month before Christmas, my Dad set up the train table in the basement and a new layout would take shape.

Growing up we didn't have a lot of money, so model trains were a luxury.  I remember going to my friend's house and watching his Lionel trains with more than a touch of envy.  Still, those American Flyer trains beckoned and I could be found in our basement with my brother and father watching that big steam locomotive ply the rails, puffing smoke, and Dad showing me when to push the button for the switch. Heaven was turning off the basement light and watching the locomotive's headlight as the train made its way around the layout, accompanied by the luminous glow of the miniature streetlamps that lined the sidewalks of our Plasticville town.

Like most boys, as my brother and I grew older, model trains were replaced by a growing list of other interests, mainly girls and cars, and the trains were packed away.  After my father passed away in 1982, we rescued the trains from storage before my mother put our house up for sale.  I watched with the same little boy fascination as the big locomotive came to life for the first time in twenty-five years, after some cleaning and lubrication.

Twenty years ago, I was celebrating Christmas at my brother's farm in Waterdown, Ontario, and suggested that we get his old American Flyer trains and set them up around the Christmas tree.  Neither he nor my nephew answered.  "Well, what do you guys think?" I asked.  Then I was told the truth.  All of the trains had been stolen from the storage barn a few years earlier.  My jaw dropped.  The thief who stole the trains took more than he realized.  The basement of our house was always on the chilly
side, but the warmth of the memories of my Dad, my brother, and me on those cold winter evenings, so long ago, will stay with me forever.