All little bothers are a little wild. However, I would classify my little brother as more than just a little wild; therefore, I nicknamed him Wild Thing. If I were asked to describe Wild Thing I would say he is a mix between Boss Baby and The Hulk. To expound further, Wild Thing commonly makes declarative statements. If you disagree or fail to comply, he becomes enraged, like the Hulk, and when the Hulk is mad, the Hulk smashes things. Knowing he can be quick to turn into “Hulk mode”, I try to keep my distance when things start spiraling out of control. However, he has thissixth sense of how to locate me even when I am trying to put distance between us. Generally, when he finds me, his Hulk persona has faded; and he darts toward me in an effort to give me a tackling hug. This rollercoaster ride of emotions occurs daily and becomes taxing over time. But I am not discouraged and I accept that I will face lifelong challenges with Wild Thing; I am committed to assisting him in his journey of growing up.
My commitment to assisting Wild Thing in his journey growing up was recently challenged. Our morning got off to a rocky start when at breakfast Wild Thing grabbed my plate of eggs and bacon and proceeded to drop it on the floor, scattering food everywhere. This was not the first time he had grabbed my plate and dumped it, so I was not full of rage at his actions at that moment. I asked for more food, which my mother provided, and then spent the remainder of breakfast eating the food with one hand and stiff-arming Wild Thing with the other. After finishing my breakfast, I watched Wild Thing rummage through papers and other items sitting on the desk in the kitchen. Then suddenly he yanked something down and instantly retreated to the bathroom. After a minute he did not return, and my curiosity began to brew. As I approached the bathroom, I could hear Wild Thing giggling uncontrollably. I looked inside the bathroom but Wild Thing’s back was to me, and I could not see what he was doing that was so hilarious. I barged into the bathroom to fully investigate Wild Thing’s actions. What I discovered was unexpected. Wild Thing had taken my father’s wallet and was dumping all the contents of the wallet into the toilet. I spoke up stating, “I don’t think that is a good idea.” Wild Thing stared intently at me as he grabbed another credit card and then defiantly dropped the credit card into the toilet and followed the action with a haunting laugh.
I could see the Hulk was emerging so I thought it was in my best interest to go tell my parents rather than suffer the wrath of Wild Thing. As I was walking to tell on Wild Thing, I had a change of heart. I decided I would help him out rather than rat him out. When I returned to the bathroom, things were getting progressively worse. After disposing of all the wallet’s contents, Wild Thing had attempted to get rid of the evidence by flushing the toilet. However, Wild Thing’s plan was flawed. The credit cards, pictures, money and other items collectively were too large to flush, and the toilet water began to backup and spill out of the toilet. Wild Thing was overjoyed with excitement; he did not understand that the toilet was not supposed to work that way. As more and more water overflowed, I panicked and screamed for my parents’ help. Rushing into the bathroom, they shut off the water to the toilet.
My father’s initial response was radio silence. I believe he was so mad that he couldn’t put into words to how truly mad he felt. I spoke first to break the silence. It afforded me the opportunity place the appropriate blame and to highlight a tiny bit of good from the situation. “I told him this was a bad idea and he didn’t listen, but the good part is the stuff in your wallet wasn’t flushed away,” I said. In hindsight I could have phrased my comments better, but I am not sure there were truly any words which could assuaged his anger. My father asked me, “Did you try to stop him?” Fair question, I did intend to stop him but that didn’t materialize before he went rouge. I had convinced myself that I did try to stop him so I replied, “Yes.” I was beginning to question why I was taking the heat for something I didn’t do. So, I asked, “Dad, are you mad at me?” He replied, “No” and then mumbled some stuff while he cleaned up the mess. My mother pulled me aside and asked if I could keep a closer eye on Wild Thing when I see him do something wrong. Again, I am getting scolded for an action I didn’t do. I thought “I am not the parent; this isn’t my j-o-b.” Recalling my commitment to Wild Thing, I just nodded.
After the ordeal I went to my bedroom and sat in bed to have a second of calm. Wild Thing came charging into my room gleefully smiling from ear to ear. I tried to ignore him by turning my back and requesting that he leave me alone. I then felt a moist towel being pressed to the back of my neck. I was enraged and turned to scream at Wild Thing. When I turned I noticed what he had pressed against my neck wasn’t a moist towel, but rather money that he had put in the toilet that had not been flushed down or picked up. (I looked past the idea that the money was ever in the toilet). After closer examination, I realized it was a $20 bill. Wild Thing handed me the money, signaling it was mine to keep. He then pulled more money from his pocket: a $10, two $5s, and three $1s. This was more money than I had in my piggybank. At that moment I realized that this relationship had the long-term potential to be very fruitful. I thought, “I will give Wild Thing “top cover,” take any blowback, or be his “fixer” if it pays dividends this well.” We agreed to keep the deal hush-hush, and then I gestured for him to leave the room. Flush with cash in hand, albeit soggy, I daydreamed of all the wicked awesome things I was going to buy with my newfound fortune of $43.