My sons were born exactly seventeen months apart to the day.  I have always been very proud of this feat and the envy of other mothers for its accomplishment.

But they are also very close and competitive.  Growing up with only one sister, I never was exposed to the concept of brotherly love.  To the best of my observation, it entails beating the crap out of one another all the time for no reason.  And no one ever seems to win or emerge permanently victorious.

The older son Adam decided to purchase a class ring from high school.  When it disappeared, even he could not locate it.  Later on, he discovered it in the gravel driveway where he had apparently run over it in his truck.  He swore up and down his brother must have put it there.

Then there was the time I stayed with the sons in their first shared apartment.  I noticed that when Brian went to brush his teeth, he came into the room I was staying in and pulled his toothbrush from a hole inside the wall.  I was afraid to inquire, but did anyway.  He said he was still waiting for Adam to retaliate from his peeing on his brother’s toothbrush last week.  From experience I asked what Adam had done to him first.  He said he put deodorant on his toothbrush the week before. 

This was a far cry from when they were children.  I would refuse to punish any child unless I witnessed the misbehavior personally.  When they could not make up their minds, I told them what would happen if they didn’t decide.  One particular trip, Adam said he and Bri had to go to the bathroom.  As Bri was stating he did not, there was a loud kick under the table, after which Bri decided he did need to use the bathroom at the restaurant.  After a while, they both emerged from the facilities, announcing they had agreed on the decision.  One could not help but notice the new red marks and bruises on each other.  And it was obvious from the decision who had won this particular battle.

After witnessing this brotherly love thing firsthand, I glad I only had a sister.