I was here first

When you arrived,
I wasn't completely sure what to think.

You cried a lot.

You took up Mum's arms.

Everyone suddenly wanted to look at you.

Which was strange,
because you weren't really doing very much.

You were tiny.

You couldn't play.

You couldn't talk.

You mostly just slept.

And somehow,
I was supposed to be the big one now.

I'm still figuring out what that means.

Sometimes I want you to stop grabbing my things.

Sometimes I want everyone to remember that I was here first.

But then you laugh at something I do.

Or grab my toe with your tiny hand.

Or look at me like I've just done something very impressive.

And I start to think
being your big brother might not be so bad.

…

One day,
she'll probably follow him around.

She'll want to know what he’s doing.

She'll copy things she shouldn't copy.

And maybe he'll find that annoying too.

But he wants to know
what she'll be like.

What she'll say
when she finally learns to talk.

Where she'll run off to.

What she'll think is funny.

Maybe they'll like the same things.

Maybe they won't.

I guess he’ll have to wait and see.

For now,
he’ll keep her close.

After all,
she’s stuck with him now.