I would go as far to say that children take the first step toward "Evil-Dom" at the ripe age of...say, seven. Most children, that is. But in this instance, I must say I am quite taken back.
I have eight brothers. Two sisters. Being the fourth born, I have been a witness to a great many childhoods. Watching the verbal fights, wrestling, and the occasional knife pull, I guess you could say I've seen a lot. Nothing though, that can compare with the lively hood of the youngest.
There's Enrique. (Twenty Seven) Business owner, single, good-looking, grounded.
Maria Cristina. (Twenty Five) Cocky. Gorgeous. Short.
Juan Pablo. (Twenty something) Clueless. Cocky. So clueless.
Jose. (Seventeen) Football superstar. Or so he thinks...
Nathanael. (Thirteen) Sweet sweet sweet.
Samuel. (Eleven) So, so funny. Great companion.
Benjamin. (Ten) Dark humor. Protective. Strong Willed.
Grace. (Seven) Darling. Funny. So so Sweet.
Now I get to the root of the matter. My youngest sibling, Bobby. Bobby has the laugh of a 300lb man. Is built a little like an Umpa-Lumpa. And has energy seeping out of every one of his, tiny baby pores.
Bobby has been on this earth four years. He has yet to conquer the art of the English language, but if you are missing your dentures when you wake up, chances are Bobby has safely tucked them away in an old boot of yours.
The tricks this kid plays, the evil deeds he laughs at, it all makes me wonder...
Where did this child come from? How does he dance so well? And who the hell is he embodying?
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