My life was perfect. My parents gave me everything I wanted. I never heard the word "No." My room was filled with toys still in their boxes because I had so many, I never played with most of them. My closet was filled with clothes with their price tags because I would not wear them until months later. But one perfect afternoon, all that changed. My mom told me the horrifying news. She was 12 weeks pregnant.

At first, this news meant nothing to me. But as her stomach grew bigger, my mom paid less attention to me. She spent days and nights in her room, coming out only to eat. As soon as she found out she was going to have a boy, the blue diapers and clothes and toys piled in. At the baby shower, no one told me how cute I was, because everyone was busy with my mom.

After six and a half months of waiting, the child came. My mom decided to name him Alexander after my great-grandfather. At first, Alex didn't bother me much. My mom took care of him. But before long, he learned to walk and speak. I had to give up my hours with my friends so I could take Alex outside and play with him. My toys were no longer mine, because he would play with them. Whenever Alex wanted something, he got it, just because he was "little."

I tried to ignore him as much as I could so he would leave me and my things alone. But the harder I tried to ignore him, the harder it became. I realized there was no escape.

When summer came, I begged my parents to send me off to a sleep-away camp. So I spent the month of August at camp. When I came home, Alex's face was the first one I saw. Before I realized what I was doing, I hugged and kissed him and hugged again. I realized how much I really loved and missed my brother.

Today, Alex is six years old and even though we fight a lot, I can't imagine life without him. c