My little brother, Jimmy, is four years old, and he copies everything I do. Mostly, I think it’s pretty cool that he wants to be just like me. But sometimes, it really gets on my nerves. Today was one of those times.
It started before breakfast. He’d been following me around all morning, wanting every toy I played with. Being a good sport, I traded for other toys to keep him from crying. By breakfast, I’d had enough.
Jimmy couldn’t reach the cupboard, so I got down his cereal and handed it to him. Then, I got down the marshmallow cereal I’d picked out from the store. Jimmy decided he wanted that kind too. I shook the box and discovered it was almost all gone.
“Jimmy, there’s only enough for one bowl.”
“But I want that kind,” Jimmy whined.
“Oh bother! Jimmy, Mom let us both pick out a box of cereal. You picked the crunchy chocolate kind.” I pointed to his cereal. “You couldn’t live without the little action figure it came with, remember? I picked this one, and I’m eating the last bowl. It’s my cereal after all.”
Jimmy’s face scrunched into a pout and his bottom lip quivered. His eyes filled with tears and I knew he was primed for a tantrum that could explode at any second. It wasn’t fair, it was my cereal!
“All right, don’t cry. You can have it.” I poured the cereal and helped him pour the milk. Not a problem -- I would play a trick on him.
As I put the milk back in the refrigerator, I knew what trick I was going play to get back at Jimmy. I’d make the grossest sandwich ever. I knew Jimmy would want one too and I, being the best sister ever, would just give him mine. It was perfect.
At lunch, I set my plan in motion. Jimmy watched as I got out two slices of bread, smeared them with mayonnaise and then drowned them in ketchup. I made a small mountain of pickles and olives on one side and then topped it with barbeque potato chips. Then I slapped the last slice of yellow cheese on top and, with a crunch, closed my masterpiece. Ketchup squished over the edges of the bread and pooled onto the plate. I was proud. I’d never seen such an icky sandwich.
“The greatest sandwich ever, the Cheese Supreme,” I said, setting it down on the table.
Jimmy followed me to the table, climbed into his chair next to me, and stared with longing at the one-of-a-kind sandwich. “I want a Cheese Supreme, too.”
“You can’t Jimmy. There was only one slice of cheese left. Have peanut butter and jelly. You like that kind.”
“No, I want a Cheese Supreme like you,” Jimmy pouted. “I hate peanut butter and jelly!”
“I let you have my last bowl of cereal this morning. Now you want my favorite sandwich?” I tried my best to sound irritated.
“But, it’s my favorite kind too.”
“Fine!” I hid my glee. “You can have it.”
I slid the plate to Jimmy and watched with delight as he picked up the Cheese Supreme and took a humongous bite. Ketchup squirted out of the sandwich, an olive shot out the side and rolled onto the floor, and pickles plopped with a thud onto the plate. I couldn’t watch him eat it anymore, it was just too gross. So, I turned away, but I could still hear the awful sounds of chewing.
Any second, Jimmy would say how nasty it was. Then he’d make his well-known yucky face. He’d probably go tell Mom, but I didn’t care, it was going to be worth it. Any second…
“Mmm, yum! This is my favorite. Thanks!”
I spun back around. Jimmy’s grin split his face ear to ear, ketchup dripped from his chin, and a pickle dangled from his shirt. In shock, I watched Jimmy gobble up the rest of the horrible sandwich.
Jimmy wiped the ketchup from his mouth and hands onto his t-shirt. “The Cheese Supreme is the best sandwich ever. Can I have another one?”
