Hawaiian Trip Essay

I can hear the pounding of the waves against the shore, moving rhythmically with the wind blowing past my face. I feel the hot sand surrounding my toes, only to be cooled down by the touch of the salty deep-blue sea. I listen to mom hysterically laugh as my dad tells another one of his “dad jokes” and as my older brother helps me keep my balance when the waves try to knock me over like a bowling pin. This is the descriptive story that brings me joy to tell my younger brother about my favorite Hawaiian trip before he was born, even though it is impossible for me to remember this from when I was only 3 years old. Why do I torture my brother by gloating to him about this perfect trip? I do it on account of what his birth imposed on me, the curse of being a middle child.
The day it all started was April 9th 2005. The hospital room was cramped with a white bed in the center, one sizable window covering a wall, and a lounge chair positioned at the foot of the bed. My Zeyde (Yiddish for Grandpa) picked my older brother and me up in his silver four-door Sedan and drove us somewhat unsteadily straight

I remember demanding to my parents on a daily basis that I was not being treated fairly and I felt like it was my duty to educate them on a common condition, “Middle Child Syndrome”. Similarly to other middle children I insisted on obtaining my own holiday called Middle Child’s Day, which is a day for non-middle children to recognize and repent for the sins that they have inflicted on us middle children as well as give us the attention that we have been deprived of. Surprisingly, my parents immediately agreed and my dad set the date to be on February 30th! I was ecstatic until I realized the February 30th is not a real date. Although my hopes of my parents sympathizing with their only middle child vanished, my fight for equality continues to this