LukeMan and AmyGirl

I had only sisters for seven years. (I spent the first three years of my life as an only child.) Emily arrived in 1991, and I don’t remember life before her. In 1998, Amy was born; she was just another sister- no large difference. But in 2001, Luke arrived, and everything I thought I knew was thrown out the window. Luke Gregory came on January 11, 2001. For the first few months of his life, not much was different from Amy’s babyhood. He would sleep, cry, eat, cry, poop, cry, and then sleep some more. But eventually the differences became noticeable. Luke does everything fast. When he learned to crawl, he raced down the hallway; his knees had constant rug burns from scraping against the carpet. When he began to walk, he didn’t just totter around and step slowly, he ran. And now, almost four years old, he is constantly in motion. He is never stopped, or even slow. He chases Amy, and races Lucky- our dog. I suppose the constant need for speed comes from trying to catch up to his big sisters. Luke fears nothing. Amy cries at the mere thought of a spider, while Luke often picks up the spider and shows it to me. “Look, Sissy!” He screams, as he picks up a Daddy Longlegs and dangles it in front of my face. And falling down doesn’t phase him. Luke always has scrapes on his knees and scabs on his elbows. A few weeks ago he and Amy were riding bikes on the sidewalk, and they collided. Amy toppled over and burst into tears, fearful she had cut her knees. Luke, who was actually hurt by the accident, started laughing and ran over to show my father the blood. My mother often says Amy is the clone of me. She takes everything over-seriously, and cannot make a decision. Deciding what to wear to kindergarten often requires tears, screams, and sometimes slamming doors. Luke, however, resembles my father. When my mother asks him which shirt he wants to wear to Preschool, Buzz Lightyear or Woody, Luke thinks a second, and then responds. If my mother suggests something other than his choice, he obliges and returns to playing with his toys. Amy is also persistent. Tonight at dinner, I was telling my parents about my Faith test, and how impossible it was, when we were interrupted by, “61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66…” “Amy!” I said, “Please stop, I’m trying to talk.” “70, 71, 72, 73, 74…” “Just wait,” my mom said. “She’ll be done in a minute.” So we waited until she had counted to 100, and then I finished telling them the events of Mr. Barnhart’s class. While my mother and I were annoyed, and Amy continued counting, Luke didn’t even notice. He continued eating his macaroni and cheese as though nothing else was happening. He sometimes zones in front of the TV as well, and screaming his name does not shake his concentration. To kill his trance, I have to nudge his shoulder or shake something else in front of his face. While Amy’s screams and tantrums are often earth-shattering, Luke in motion breaks the sound barrier. Nothing is simply said; instead it is screamed. Amy plays Barbie quietly, but Luke plays with his toy train and often ends with crashing plastic and pretend wails from the “injured civilians.” Amy plays school and pretends to be the teacher, and Luke is the obnoxious child in her class. My mother calls Luke the “little ManChild.” Just like a man, she says, he makes messes, and then leaves them for someone else to clean up. Right now, as I type this, I am surrounded by Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head, a dump trunk, a dinosaur, and remnants of his train set. Amy, however, has plastic bins where she keeps her toys. Each bin is for a different type of toy, such as doll house pieces, Barbie dolls and clothes, or play shoes and purses. Luke is a teddy bear; and he loves giving hugs and kisses. When I give him a kiss, he says, “No, Sissy, ten more kisses.” So I give him ten more kisses, and he pulls me back and says, “No, five more kisses.” This usually continues for several minutes, with different amounts of kisses. Amy, however, does not like to be bothered. She rarely gives me hugs, even at bedtime. Luke also loves to cuddle. When I watch television, he often climbs into my lap, rests back against me, and watches the television show with me. Sometimes, he will climb into my bed and pretend to sleep with me, until my mother makes him go to his own bed. Amy is the exact opposite; she hates to be confined. When I try to sit with her and watch Aladdin, one of our favorite movies, she wriggles out of my grasp and sits at the other end of the couch. People often ask if I wish I didn’t have siblings so young, and I never hesitate in answering. Sure, with younger siblings there are some things we can’t do. We can’t go on spur of the moment vacations or simple shopping trips. And until recently, a restaurant without a playground was out of the question. I was ecstatic when I found out about Amy, but when I first learned my parents were having a fourth baby, I wasn’t as excited. And when I found out it was a boy, I was even less thrilled. But Luke has kept our lives interesting, and nothing is ever boring. I know I shouldn’t have favorites, and I love Amy and Luke equally, but Luke has a special place in my heart. His spunkiness and happiness cheer me up, no matter what brought me down, and his giggle instantly puts a smile on my face. So No, I say to those who ask about my siblings. Even with all the things we can’t do, I wouldn’t trade them for the world.