"Was it hard growing up with him?" Dr. Johnson asks.
"No. Not as hard as I thought it would be."
"Why did you think that it would be hard?"
"Well, I didn't love the idea of sharing my things with someone else."
"But that all changed?"
"Well...sorta...."

*

I am 5 years old and you are 2.
"Mikey! Give me back my truck!" I shout at you, but you just giggle and shake your head.
"What's wrong Gerard?" Momma asks from the kitchen.
"Mikey took my truck and wont give it back!" I wail.
You sit on the carpet in the living room driving the truck back and forth and I was mad. Momma never said anything about sharing my toys with you. I started to cry and storm out of the room. I run upstairs and flop onto my bed. I cry for ten minutes before you come waddling in.
"Go away!" I shout at you. You look at me with your big eyes and I notice that you still have the toy truck in your arms. You sit down on the floor by my bed and drop the truck. You stay sitting there staring at me.
I get up and reach for the truck, you slowly push it towards me. I take it in my hands and you smile your toothless grin. I look at you and then look at the truck. I sigh and push the truck back towards you. You look confused for a moment before you go back to driving the truck back and forth. You were wondering why I gave it back to you. The reason; I loved you too much to let a stupid argument over a toy get in the way of our friendship. I cared more about you than any toy in the world, and with the way that you looked at me that day I knew that you understood.

*

"You loved your brother?"
"I still do."
Dr. Johnson sits still for a moment before writing on his clipboard. How I hated that stupid clipboard.
"Well, Gerard, what else can you tell me?"
"I remember the time I was first going to kindergarden..."