I do like to share! But sometimes, I don’t. Mom got this picture in the mail and then she hung it up on the big board in the kitchen. She thinks it’s funny. I don’t. It makes me mad!

I share stuff with my big brother and my sister and my friends at school. And I share with my baby cousins. But I don’t always want to.

Babies! Who needs them?

When I woke up today, Mom told me that G.B. (Gargantuan Baby) was coming over to play. She took out all the baby toys and put the gate around the stove. Ha! G.B. doesn’t know that fire is hot? I know that fire is hot.

Well, G.B. and his dad came over but then, G.B.’s dad left without G.B.! Mom said he was going to the mountain to play in the snow.

I want to go play in the snow but Mom won’t come outside with me. She says we have to watch the baby inside. Harumph!

But I get to watch TV and I do…until G.B. wrecks my train track. That makes me mad! I made that! I jump off the couch and lay down on top of my trains. “Mom!” I yell. “He’s messing up my train track!”

Mom tells me to be nice to the baby.

Stupid baby.

These are MY toys. Mine. My own.

Oh, fine. He can play with my trains. I’ll play with my airplane. It makes cool noises. 1, 2, 3, blast off!

Uh-oh. Here comes G.B. “No, G.B.! This is MINE!” I run away. He can only crawl. He can’t catch me. I hold my airplane up high, where he can’t reach.

“Henry?” Mom is calling. “Keep an eye on G.B. while I set up the pack and play.”

I stop running. That’s my pack and play.

Harumph.

Wait! Where is G.B. going? He’s moving towards…he’s trying to get…PIGGY! “NO!” I shout. I grab her and put her behind my back. She is safe, but he is crying. Wow. He’s loud. I cover my ears. Mom picks him up and takes him away.

I’m all alone. I feel bad. G.B.’s just a baby. He’s not a big boy like me. I peek into the living room. G.B. and Mom are reading a book about trucks.

That’s my Mom.

I walk over. “Mom, can I sit in your lap?”

She says yes and makes room for me. I look at G.B. out of the corner of my eye. This is alright. I guess. I like this book. Trucks are cool. G.B. squirms away from us.

I’m watching you, G.B. I see you.

Mom makes lunch. She feeds G.B. in a special chair with a tray. He is eating applesauce. I am eating spaghettios with meatballs. I smile at G.B. I make a funny face at him. He screeches. I wince. Mom says it’s OK, that it’s his way of laughing.

The applesauce dribbles off G.B.’s chin. He spits more of it out when he makes a raspberry noise. Hey! I like to make those noises too! I make one. G.B. laughs. It makes me feel good. I giggle.

But only a little.

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