You might wonder why this older brother actually listens to me. Actually, all of my older brothers listen to me. Why? Because they know what’s good for them.
Our mom died when I was only six. So, I am in charge of keeping the house running smoothly. Nobody makes me; I do it because I like it and I’m good at it. Some people are good at spelling, or at running. I, personally, am an organizing genius (if I do say so myself). My friends come to me when they need help, because I can think through problems and find answers. Even when I was little, I could see what needed to be done, and then get it done.
I assign each of my brothers (except the oldest one, Waylon - he has his own apartment now) a cleaning job every week. When we go shopping, I call the shots, sending them each
out on cereal or banana missions while my dad and I pack things neatly into the shopping cart. I keep a big yellow binder full of vital information, such as when Edward needs to get his field-trip permission slip back to school, when my dad needs to write the rent check, when Tai needs to have his science project done, and how much toilet paper we have left.
At first, my brothers and my dad were not happy about having a little kid boss them around. Since they didn’t understand why they should let me run everything, I went on strike. I hid the binder under my bed, sat back, and watched everything fall apart.
Which it did.
