Little brother is watching me

One day my brother Jaime was born, and he was a baby. I wasn’t. I was eight, visiting him in that hospital and not much interested. I found it funnier to plug my hairpin into the jack. Getting almost killed I learned that mothers like to accumulate kids, not substituting them. Later, new brother and I shared the room. He was cool. If only he didn´t sleep with his eyes open. Maybe he did so because I was a sleepwalker. We little monsters got on. Old brother and me took care of him while he grew up, and up, and up. Up to two meters high, the height needed to pack his so many qualities: super witty, clever, smart, ambitious, popular and big-hearted. One of those persons you would buy a second-hand car from. So I have just bought his, which I won´t draw, cause it´s not parked inside the 53m2 (only cause door is too small). Instead I will draw these awesome laughing teeth he gave me for my birthday, which I associate with all the times Jaime has taken me out to party or has made me laugh. Whenever he called and noticed sad boredom. Now I feel he is the one who has been really taking care of me, since I chose not to grow up. Jimmy rocks. Forever.