Ah, Brothers.

Speaking of birthdays, five years and seven days after I was born, this bundle of joy made his way into the world (screaming bloody murder, I'd like to note):

My baby brother, William, is twenty-two today. You might think this means he is not a baby anymore, which seems impossible as just yesterday we were doing this:

William, or Dee, as my Mom and I call him for reasons unknown, was a very welcome addition to our little family per my recollection. If you ask my Mom, she says, "Thank goodness he was a boy." Perhaps she thinks I couldn't handle sharing my daughter spotlight.

Regardless, William simply embodies joie de vivre. He is the happiest, friendliest, silliest boy you'll ever meet. He tells hilarious jokes (and then, if you laugh, he tells them over and over and over again). What he lacks in patience (a family trait if there ever was one), he makes up for in his ability to entertain. He has a ridiculously good memory and loves to start stories with, "Remember when..."

Our childhood is replete with happy stories and imaginative theatrics, as well as our share of sibling disagreements. Though I may have been bossy and often balked at sharing the attention, my life is so much better because of him. He's the kind of kid that makes you wish everyone could have a brother.

And now he's all grown up:


But to me, he will always be this kiddo:

My favorite picture of William. Ever.

Happy Birthday, Dee. I am so glad you were born.