I wonder where I’d be right now if Velcro had been invented when I was 7. One rainy night the frustration of being the youngest of four finally caught up with me. My parents were out for the evening, leaving my teenage brother in charge. He refused to let me stay up past my bedtime to watch “Gunsmoke.” It was one injustice too many. I packed my round, red-and-black plaid suitcase with all the books and comics it could hold. Donned my raincoat and tennis shoes and went to the kitchen to pack a snack. I couldn’t make the square box of Peanut Butter Captain Crunch fit into my round suitcase so, leaving it on the counter, I slipped out the backdoor. At the end of our driveway I tripped on my untied shoelace. It would be a painful journey if I kept stumbling over my laces. I marched back inside where my despot of a brother reclined, watching television. “Tie my shoes,” I demanded/Cindy Hval, Front Porch. More here.

Question: Did your older siblings pick on you?