When I was growing up, I had (well, have, but anyway) three older brothers. I began to objectify them, putting them in one big lump sum: The Brothers.
They were like a club -a band of some sort.
“Mom, The Brothers went outside.”
Most often, though, I viewed The Brothers as a mean Hate Gang and myself as their sole target, and I could almost swear that my mother lost half of her hair listening to my most common lament, “The Brothers are teasing me!”
Someday I hope to be as darling as I once was. Maybe when I’m 93 and wearing a white crochet cardi in my nursing home recliner?
Anyway, the other day I loaded up Alice in the car without her older siblings, and she looked confused.
“Where Guys?” she asked.
“What?” I looked at her and furrowed my eyebrows, trying to decipher exactly what she was saying.
“Where Guys?” she repeated, “GUYS! GUYS! WHERE AH YOU?!”
Guys.
They’re just as cute as The Brothers. Will they turn out to the new Hate Gang on the block? Time will tell…
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