I’m competative, nary there be a doubt about nor about* it. This Dominic fellow has taken my competition from a two-ex level up to an unprecidented three-ex level. Now I’m neither oldest nor yougest, yet I gotta make my voice heard among the multi-kid din.
I’ve got the older brother (bro Patrick) who’s constantly leading in speech skills and stick figure interpretation. I can’t keep up with his scribbling in notebooks of clues of the Blue’s fashion. He makes hideously ugly Play-Doh dudes and the best I can do is eat the Play-Doh. Why not, though hardly fortified with vitamins and minerals it is indeed non toxic.
Then you got the junior brother (mini-man Dominic) who’s currently killin’ ‘em in the polls for cuteness (though in his bald wiggling I cannot understand how). People — specifically chicks — dig the dudes young, so barring an age regression I really can’t compete with him.
So as a middle (and typically “lost”) child, how am I supposed to compete with this bweeznass? Should I take up skateboarding, 3-point chucking or Evel Kneiveling? I could, but it’s not my thing.
Against my wishing I’m going to step up my cuting, you know, like the hugs, the kisses, and “with stuff” smiling.** I don’t know what’d further to be done and busy stuff.
I’m going to keep up the cuting. I’ll keep up the ante up-stepping and I’m gonna further over, over bring my game. If your a brother of mine (of whom I have many) be on your guard to the max. If you’re an outsider, be on the lookout for outrageous me-maximizing.
No matter. I have to go. It’s time for the B-man to refine his game. I’ve got all sorts of reinventing to do. Brothers beware… did I say that already? Doesn’t matter, I’m ready to impress.
Cool? (I’m still the favorite, right?)
* “About” bespake for our Quebequa readers.
**If I make killer photo ops with stuffed animals, pets, or the elderly, wouldn’t that help?