Once upon a time I had a baby boy and nineteen months later, I had a another baby boy. I was so excited that my big boy would have a brother to play with, someone to be his very best friend. In our circle of friends, there is no one who has a boy in the age range of my boys and I don't want to encourage non-Christian friends too strongly so it was very thrilling to me that my boys would always have each other.

What I didn't count on? Having two boys means double the trouble.

If one makes a bodily noise, the other will laugh uproariously and probably even try to do it too.

Boys like to wrestle, which means there is always a willing partner on hand.

Bathroom talk is an ordinary topic of conversation.

Being hyper and wild (also known as jumping/running/shouting/bouncing off walls - simultaneously) is very, very, very contagious and runs rampantly. The only known cure is separation/isolation. Quarantine?

One can never get a serious talking to from a parent with the brother present. It always ends in two giggling boys and two very frustrated parents.

Little sister gets double the torture.

Burping is a given.

Fighting is inevitable.

BUT...

A brother is a built-in playmate. A brother always has your back when others are teasing you. A brother is always up for game-playing and bike riding, DS tournaments and Lego structures. A brother is Playmobil and soccer and building things and sledding. Together. He is someone who laughs at your stupidest jokes, someone who understands you, who accepts you, faults and all.

A brother is something a boy just needs.

A friend loves at all times,

    and a brother is born for adversity.