Lamar wasn’t exactly sure why, but he was convinced he wasn’t going to like it. The closer it got for “It” to be born, the crazier things became. And he was beginning to feel like his place as “Daddy’s Twin” and “Mommy’s Special Little Man” was about to change. Mommy was so tired all the time, she would fall asleep in the middle of him asking for cookies. Daddy was so busy helping Mommy do the laundry; he didn’t feel like beating me at basketball anymore. I knew something was really wrong, because he loved beating me at all the games we played. “I hated losing but loved to see him enjoying himself. Sometimes it’s ok to let your parents have a little fun.”
Lamar kept asking Mommy how a baby got into her stomach in the first place. She would just smile and say, “The tooth fairy must have brought “It.” She must have forgotten how smart he was. Besides, everybody knows tooth fairies bring shiny half dollars, cash, or video games–not babies.
Anyway, “It” must have been pretty cheap, because, when he asked for a new bike, Dad mumbled, “Not another thing comes into this house unless it is on sale.” The last time they bought something on sale– that big, Pokka dotted, squeaky rocking chair—it broke the first time Lamar jumped on it. Pooky, Lamar’s stuffed panda bear–with only one ear–and his pea green dragon, Duke, were just getting used to snuggling in the chair before dinner. Daddy sold it to the neighbor who thought he had gotten a bargain.
Salty drops of sweat pressed their way into Lemar’s wrinkly forehead, and two, chubby, brown hands supported a very droopy chin. Thinking can be hard work. He’d been studying babies on Google. All they seem to do is cry and poop at the worst times— like when you are finally headed out for ice cream. They are always hungry and sleep when they should be learning about life from an older brother or sister. Can’t catch a ball, climb up the slide in the park, or fly a kite. Seem pretty useless. They can’t sit behind Sheila on the school bus, snatch her candy and blame it on Darrell. Can’t pretend to have a stomachache to avoid taking that old spelling test. Can’t help Daddy shave in the morning to make sure that he doesn’t cut himself. Babies. Who wants them?
Lamar stiffened. He should be finishing his homework but needed all his energy to figure out what to do next. He must quickly come up with a super, duper plan. But, after thinking so hard already, Lamar had developed one very painful headache. Hmm, it should be good for at least one brief visit to the nurse’s office during social studies.
Time was running out. In a few short hours, the baby would be “popping” out. And from that moment, it would be slobbering and yelling and taking over Lamar’s room. Something had to be done.
Quietly, Lamar tiptoed out to the garage he was certain to find whatever he needed because mom always said, “Big Daddy keeps the whole world in the garage.” Now, where was it? Ah, in the corner, on the left side, was the saw. Lamar hesitated for a moment or two. He really wasn’t supposed to play with his father’s “toys.” A little rusty, but it would have to do. This was an emergency. He had to get rid of that little intruder before it ruined a perfectly respectable family. But Lamar had to be careful not to leave any evidence. Had to wipe the saw clean and leave the garage exactly as it had been. Couldn’t be traced to the crime scene.
Beneath a pile of newspapers was a dusty crate. Lamar had seen a video and knew just what he had to do. He measured the wooden box and tested the saw to make sure that it was sharp enough. Then, he bolted into the front yard to find just the right spot to dig the hole. It was late, and soon, he would have no light to see that the job was done correctly. He knew his parents “thought” that they wanted this baby, but they were always telling him that what we think we want isn’t always the best for us. Lamar would be a better son. He would promise not to pout or scream at the top of his lungs when bedtime came so early each night. He would simply suffer in dignified silence. No stomping. No dramatics. No life. But the result would be worth it. They would forget about having a little creature in a day or two and remember how much fun the three of them had.
Lemar pressed on with his work. By the way, nobody asked him how he felt or what he wanted. Lamar had been dreaming of having a little sister, not a brother. He smeared one lonely tear over his flushed cheek as he sensed how upset his mom might be when she heard that her “Special Little Man” was the culprit. Within the hour, Lamar hammered in the last nail, and neatly replaced the dirt which had been removed from the ground. Dad’s tools were returned to their proper hooks, and Lamar reached the screen door just as his mother began to call him to come inside for a snack.
That evening, Lamar practiced being cooperative when he was told to get ready for bed. The next morning, he set his alarm clock and got up the first time it sounded. Lamar confessed to hiding his homework assignment and finished it without being scolded–before leaving for school. His behavior was so perfect; his dad had to take a closer look to make sure this boy was really his Lamar.
His mother stepped out to pick up the morning paper as Lamar waved goodbye from the school bus. She was shocked to find a ragged, makeshift sign with crooked letters that read:
Lamar was a few years older before he fully understood why you shouldn’t sell anybody in your family. Sometimes his little brother was a major nuisance but, mostly, Lamar was glad to always have someone to play with. And since he was the oldest, and wisest, Lamar usually got to choose the game—one he would always win. Everyone could see that Joey thought he had the best big brother, in the universe. Lemar thanked God for his little brother, and secretly wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.
The sign is by Jordan Russell. Born into a family of singers Jordan struggled to find her “talent”. Thankfully, her grandmother, a true artist, stepped in, nurturing a love for beauty. Jordan soon realized that her passion was in using different mediums to create art. A mother of three and a full-time preschool teacher, Jordan’s talents can be seen in classroom decorations and art projects that inspire her students. She aspires to have her work published in both graphic novels and children’s stories in the near future.
Story written by and copywrited to Geraldine Pinkston, Phd. 2023