©1991 by Susan Noyes Anderson

My little brother copies me.
He does just what I do.
He lugs around a baseball bat
and wears my shinguards too.

He has a ping pong paddle that
he calls a tennis racquet.
His backhand smashed the TV screen.
That kid can really whack it!

His hockey stick’s a toilet brush;
it’s wrecking our mom’s floor.
He kicks field goals through window panes.
(I think Mom’s keeping score.)

It’s cool he wants to be like me.
I love the little brat.
But Mom makes me clean up his mess.
Why can’t he copy that?