The Truth About Meyer

Don't get me wrong, I love Meyer. I don't exactly understand why he gets a website and I don't, but I like the kid.

But don't let mom and dad give you the impression that Meyer is an angel, or even that he is a good baby. Good babies don't flog their siblings. Below is a list of the objects that Meyer has beaten me with:

The phone

The baby monitor

Various balls

Various books

A sippy cup

Assorted toys

Of course, he beats me with his hands, too. He also pulls my hair. And I'm sure mom and dad have told you the cute story about how Meyer shut me in the dryer with a dirty diaper. A good baby indeed.

Another thing: You'd think after 13 months he would have learned my name. No, he call's me "Nay-nay." Nay-nay. That's what mom and dad call Naomi. Sure, I can see how Meyer could get me confused with Naomi; I mean, she's only twice my size and a girl! Not to mention, her hair is half as long as mine and a totally different shade of gray.

Sometimes, when Meyer is upstairs, mom or dad will close the door to my bathroom (the closet where the litter boxes are). They don't want their little angel to wander in. Oh, I'm sorry my bathroom is so untidy. Sorry to inconvenience you. Even better, sometimes they forget to open the door until the next morning. Think about that.

I'll tell you what really hurts: When mom and dad point me out to Meyer and say, "There's your kitty," as though I am somehow his property. Look: I am Meyer's brother. Am I adopted? Yes. Am I a different species than my parents? Yes. But I am no less Ashlee and Josh's son than he is. A few weeks ago, mom stayed home from work because Meyer was running a fever. Guess what: She did the same thing when I was a year old and running a nasty fever. I used to be her baby just as much as he is now.

I won't lie to myself. Meyer is definitely their favorite. I remember fondly when birthday cards from the Tinley family were signed, "Ashlee, Josh, Reggie, Naomi, and Rivers" (and later, "Curtis"). Now it's, "Ashlee, Josh, and Meyer," and, if we're lucky, "and the cats." The cats?! Like we don't have names or something.

Am I jealous? Yes. But at least I don't have a bedtime.

-- Rivers