Image by ynse via Flickr
My husband is the youngest of six children (by five and half years). It’s said his feet never touched the ground when he was a baby because one of his siblings always wanted to carry him. They’re a competitive bunch, those brothers and sisters. And they love him most.
Today, as three of them sat in the lab at Stanford having their blood drawn, they fought over something new, but still about their baby brother. They fought over which one would get to be lucky enough to be the match for their baby brother. Fought. For him.
Of course, one brother also threatened to kick a guy in the balls if he missed his vein. But, that’s irrelevant to this story. (He didn’t miss, in case you're wondering.)