I am the oldest of four children.
Two girls, two boys.
And I firmly believe it is my job to give them all a hard time.
It builds character.
That’s what the oldest child is for.
One of my brothers is your typical teenage kid.
His interests include:
Showing off his muscles.
Over the holiday, he was flaunting his muscles, as usual.
I playfully punched his stomach.
He responded with, “Oh I’m sorry. Did my abs hurt your hand?”
I couldn’t pass the opportunity.
“Oh, you think your stomach is hard? Try mine.”
He laughed, thinking that a pregnant stomach is squishy.
“Holy cow! Are you flexing?!”
“Nope. I bet my stomach is harder than yours.”
The pregnant belly won by unanimous vote.
And my brother hasn’t left the gym since.