Daniel Beck walks through life with the confidence of a Wall Street businessman. He has dazzling deep blue eyes and round rosy cheeks that he often uses to his advantage. His smirk is his signature scheming quality. At three feet tall and five years old, my younger brother Daniel has learned the world does not revolve around him, yet still fights this fact every day; the mornings are systematically traumatizing once he hears it is a school day and then again an hour later when it is time to leave the house.
He hits nirvana when building Lego spaceships, but refuses to follow the instructions partly because he can’t read, which he would never admit is the reason, and partly because he is the type to go rogue. He would rather go scavenging for food in the kitchen on his hands and knees than let our mom make him food-- he never even bothers to hide the cookie wrappers. Our mom has caught him pants down, peeing in the backyard when someone is occupying his bathroom, but he never even cares to close the backdoor.
Daniel is the sweetest person I know. But similarly to a Sour Patch Kid, he turns bad at any moment’s notice with phrases like, “I want to throw you into the garbage!” I was once sick with the flu and when he found out he ran over to my room, handed me the remote to the living room TV, blew me a kiss, and then played with his Legos next to my bed for hours without a peep.
My brother talks about growing up almost as much as he talks about his Legos creations, he’s going to be a surgeon, so he can help people who are sick, and also cut them open. I don’t know if this career choice will stick, but I do know whatever Daniel wants to do, he’ll find a way to make it happen.
