I’ll never forget the night that my little brother Adam was born. (That’s us on the left, by the way.) I was 3 years old and spending the night at my best friend’s house. We were lip-syncing our way through the entire “Footloose” soundtrack, when we got a call that my little brother had been born. I ran around the house screaming like a banshee because I couldn’t wait to meet him. My dad picked me up and brought me to the hospital, where I ran into the hospital room to see my mom holding what looked like a human tadpole. “That’s my brother?” I asked disappointed. Ugh.
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