Too about 4

When I was a child, I was full of thoughts. You might not believe that a young child would ever engage in deep thoughts or that they think beyond the next cartoon or play thing that they receive. Maybe I was different from most young children, I don't really know. I don't really think so though.

When I was very little probably 2, my favorite thing was spending time with my mother. She loved to play with me. We would spend hours playing with my babies. I wanted very much to be a mother, like my mom. She seemed to have a joy and wonder about the world around her.

We would go outside and I would point out the lovely little white flowers that grew in the yard. She would patiently say that they were weeds. I did not think so and after gathering a large handful of them I would present my little gift to her. I would of course put long pieces of grass that had unique patterns in in them so they looked like the arrangements that I had seen on the tables at different houses that we would visit. To me these were beautiful. My mother’s eyes would glisten and she loved the gifts I would give to her.

When I was about 2 1/2 my mom let me know that I was going to have a baby brother. No, she could not have known for sure it was a boy. We somehow just both knew. His name was going to be Jerrod Wesley. I was so excited. I would have a real baby around, to take care of.

I was never afraid of him taking away the love my mother showed to me as we would both be her special love. Each in their own ways. I was eager to have a playmate and someone I could help take care of. One day when we laid down for a nap, I still took a bottle at naptime. It was more for my comfort and my mother’s I believe. I saw my mother’s tummy move. She was asleep. I could tell that he was hungry. In my mind, he needed a bottle. I knew he was a baby so he could not eat big food. I did not know how to get it to him. so I figured that I could somehow get it through my mother’s belly button. Of course my mother awoke when I tried to press the nipple of the bottle into her belly button, with milk dripping down my mother's belly.

She sat up suddenly and looked at me with a questioning look and asked what I was doing. My response was, "Jerrod Wesley is hungry and he needs a bottle." In all earnestness and a frustrated look on my two and a half year old faces. She smiled and suppressed a laugh and took me into her arms and said it's ok, Renee. He is ok; he will have plenty to eat. He gets food that I eat.

This was such a huge idea to me. I could imagine him sitting in her tummy and eating mashed potatoes that my mom had swallowed. Of course, all the things with digestion and everything did not even enter my mind as a two-year-old child.

Of course, my birthday came and all I really wanted was my baby brother for my birthday. My mom told me that he was not ready yet and could not be born. I was disappointed but then they gave me my presents.

Soon enough my mom went to the hospital to bring home my baby brother. I was happy though I did not understand; in the mind of a three year old the biological workings of the human body were a bit beyond my grasp.

My brother finally came home. I was so happy. He was so little though and I wanted to hold him. I would never have hurt him. He was my baby as much as he was moms. The only frustration I had then was the fact that my mom thought that I was just too little to hold him properly. All the time we played with my baby's and she had shown me how you hold a baby and wrap them, and care for them. I was sure she knew I would be careful.

When my brother was very little I mean still new, to me we moved a long, long ways away. All my life I had lived in a small town in Ohio. Now we were moving to Idaho. The trip seemed to take forever! I did not get to board as long as I could see out the windows of the truck. I could watch the way the land looked out the windows and watch as it changed from flat to hilly, to mountains.

The scenery outside even distracted me from my brothers cries when he would get hungry. My dad did the driving and he would often times sing with the radio. He had a wonderful voice, even when he was play singing and making up funny words.

We finally got to the place we would be staying for a little while in Idaho, with my uncles. Uncle Paul was my favorite. He would hold me on his lap and tell me I was his favorite niece, and the most beautiful little girl in the world. He would also tell the most unbelievable tales of places he had been and things he had done. My Uncle Roger was quite and liked to make faces at me and he was kind of scary to me as a child. He really did not hold me or really act like I was around. He always wanted me to go play so he could talk with my dad. Uncle Paul would take my hand and walk me inside to my mom.

Finally after a couple of days, we got a place that was our own. We lived in a trailer park. To me it was a park. It had the neatest little animals and huge trees lining the little roads that lead to each of the little houses, which is what I thought of the trailers.

Some of the houses were so cool. The people that lived in them could just drive away in them.
My dad had said he wished that we had one of those houses. Someday he wanted to have one and travel.

Mom had made friends with the neighbors. They seemed really old to me. They were always nice and they would give me treats sometimes. My dad was gone a lot. He worked most of the day, then go with my uncles in the evening. It was just Jerrod, Mom and of course me.

My mom still did not want me to hold Jerrod. She said he was still too little for me to hold because he was only eight weeks old. To me he was just the perfect size. My mom was always busy working on the house since we had moved there she seemed to always have so much to do she did not have as much time to play with me.

She was washing clothes and hanging them on the line. Jerrod woke-up, he was in his playpen and I knew what my mommy always did when he cried like that. He looked so mad. His little fists were, all balled up and he was crying. Usually that meant that he was hungry and scared that he was alone.

I decided to help my mom. She was busy outside at the clothes line, so I put the side of the play pin down so that I could reach him.

At first, I tried just touching his cheek and holding his hand. He just seemed to scream louder. So, I hurried into the playpen and picked him up. He was still crying and I was afraid if mom seen me holding him she would think that I hurt him, so I held him close to my shoulder like she did and gently rocked him and I moved through the house to my bedroom.

I figured I should hide so that she could not find us. I did not want her to see him so upset and think I hurt him. So I climbed in my closet and closed the door and sat down rocking and shushing him. I had not been there very long when he finally started to quite down. I knew he was hungry and I could not feed him, unless I gave him a bottle. I grabbed the bottle I had put in my pocket and tried to give it to him.

Oh boy was he mad then. He did not like my bottle and screamed really loud so I dropped the bottle and had started to rock him again when my closet door flew open. There stood my mom. Her hands on her hips with a look of relief, followed by anger then followed by a look of almost wonder.

I knew that I was in trouble. “I am sorry mommy. He started crying and you were so busy. I wanted to help, but he just kept crying. I didn't hurt him I promise. He did not like my bottle and I think he is hungry.”

She said “Renee Jean I told you not to pick him up.”

“ I did not hurt him mommy, I promise” was all I could say.

She took my brother from my arms and I remember being so upset that I began to cry. She gently took me in her arms. “I know that you did not hurt him. Here look at him, he does not have a tear in his eyes.”

By this time little baby Jerrod had stopped crying and had his huge blue eyes open and was looking from one of us to the other.

My mom went on to say; “You know. I know you would not hurt him on purpose, but he is still very little and I want to make sure that I am here when you hold him. If you promise to leave him be when I am not close by I will let you hold him more.”
Inside I was jumping for joy that is all I really wanted was to hold him. About that time my brother balled up his fists and scrunched up his face to let another scream out. Mom hurried away with him and I helped her with him more from that time on.

As we both grew, my brother was sometimes a pest but more often than not, he was my best friend and playmate. We played pretend a lot. He was the dad and I was the mom, and my babies were the children. He would take his toy cars to work and I would stay home. When we were outside, I would contentedly make meals of mud pies for us to have for supper. I would make believe I eat mine and Jerrod would actually eat the mud pies I made for him. I thought it was kind of gross, but we had fun.

Sometimes I would sit and twist the grass making little bands for my baby dolls while he was working. I called it my sewing. I could twist the long grass with my fingers and let my thoughts come as they would.

I would sit on the soft tall grass. I would watch the wind sweep through the grass moving it the way I imagined the wind making waves of the ocean. I would look up into the trees and watch the squirrels and chipmunks playing. I could sometimes see horses or cows in the distance.

I my mind would wonder what my babies would look like when I grew up and became a mom. Of course, my husband would be a rich prince, and my mom and brother would be close by somewhere.

We moved several times while I was young. I became a more reserved and shy child at school. I would make only a few friends because I did not know how long we would stay at that school. My brother was always around and for the most part, he was my closest friend. We fought as all siblings do. However, I think the main difference between others and us was the close bond we formed.

When we were little I would be mommy when mommy was busy. I did not have to, and sometimes it was silly for me to do this. When he would get into trouble, I would console him. I hated to see him cry. I would hold him and whisper to him that it was ok. I told him that he did not have to listen to them. They were mean. From a younger point of view, maybe that was my idea of justice. We never meant to hurt or break things when we played. They just somehow ended up broken or dirty.