Growing up was like an unforgettable memory...

When I was one, my parents loved me with immeasurable amounts of care. Of course they fed me icky food, but they still took care of me. I would cry in the middle of the night and immediately, they would be next to me. I got hugs, kisses, cheeks pinched, carried around and admired. I was always the center of attention.

Then I was four. Things changed a bit. I became the older sibling. I went to preschool. My pretty drawings filled the refrigerator. My title became the “big kid”. That title was earned: I took care of my younger brother, went to school, learned to tie shoes and was potty trained. It was great to be the “big kid”.

Soon, I was seven. I learned to go to school early in the morning. I did my homework, bought all the newest gaming devices, earned an allowance and became the role model for my younger sibling. I became an independent person.

Years later, I became ten. It was great being ten. I was now in the double digits. I was the boss of the school (Fifth grade was the highest grade in elementary). I joined sports, hung out with friends, became the boss and I was now on the verge to enter middle school. I was a double digit kid.

In a blink, the years went by and I became a teenager, thirteen. I was a teen. I was an eighth grader. My younger brother would look up to me. I was the teen he wanted to be. I loved it. It gave me rights. I could now watch PG-13 movies, stay up late, boss my brother and be free. Oh the joy. Being a teen is great!