Where it began

When I was in the first grade I had a bike.  It was blue.  It had a white vinyl banana seat.  I was a young first grader so I don't think it was weird that I had training wheels.  It didn't seem to bother ME at the time....

UNTIL....

My stupid little brother who was three got a bike. 

There are two things you need to know here.  It was a tiny little bike.  Also unique about the bike was the fact that a person could by pedalling it propel it in a forward OR BACKWARD direction.  (Have you ever seen a three year ride a bike backwards down the street?  It is pretty funny.)
The other thing you need to know is that my brother was a stupid over achiever.  He was one of those kids who was forever racing into the house on report card day waving it in front of my parents' face while I was eating mine and trying to concoct a story to explain its whereabouts involving rabid wolves and the plague.  He lettered in like seven sports in high school AND BAND.  He was an honor student...blah blah blah.
So of course the second his three year old self plopped down on the seat of this tiny bike he could ride it with no training wheels.    (Ha ha on him.  I still have hair.)

At that point I HAD to have the training wheels taken off of my bike.  So my mom did.  My parents would take turns pushing me down the sidewalk. 

Finally they both tired of this game...it may have been hours, it may have been weeks.  I don't know.  I believe my mom suggested I "practice" alone until she got out there. 
I did.  And I eventually figured it out. 
Jubilant after riding five feet unassisted  (As my turd little brother was making donuts around me in a wheelie.) I ran in to announce my acheivment and invite my parents  to watch the miracle. 
They came out to witness my success.  Whereupon I rode down the sidewalk and straight in to a tree.  I ended up hanging onto the tree for dear life about six inches from the ground while my bike sailed out into the street.

I started writing this story to prove how far I had come as a cyclist.  (Not far.) 
Since that day I have run into the back of a car, forgotten to unclip and fallen over a couple of times.

But now I am ticked off by the whole list of things my little brother mastered before me.
* I vaguely remember him peacefully playing with Hot Wheels cars while my mother unloaded the TRAUMATIC info on me that there is no Santa.  (In later years I asked her why she didn't care that he heard and she nonchalantly replied, "Oh.  He already knew.")
*I also had to call him from college so he could explain to me about an asymptote...or whatever it is.
* When I first got my license I had to take him with me wherever I went.
         a. I never knew how to get anywhere and
         b. I never knew when it was my turn at four way stops.


Shees.  Now the focus of this post is that little brothers are annoying.
I think as parents now we should all keep that in mind.

What is the most annoying thing one of your siblings has done?