Happy birthday Nunik
When Mama was pregnant with Nunik, I used to talk to him. I would press my ear to Mama's rounded belly, wanting to hear the boy that was inside. I would draw a door on Mama's stomach, and tell the baby to come out through that door. I called him "Johnny".
When he was born, they named him after my dad. After a few days of being pissed because my preferred name was discarded, I got used to it and found "the baby" delightful.
I don't recall ever experiencing any sibling rivalry, although we did have our days where we hated each other's guts and often fought. When we'd both get spanked (regardless of whose fault it was), we'd bond together and hate the common enemy: parents. We love and hate each other, shared and kept things from each other and even at some time in our lives, wore similar clothes.
In some ways, my little brother has become my big brother, perhaps because he's the oldest of three boys, and has numerous younger cousins who look up to him as "Kuya". My baby brother is now a man, but to me he's still the little boy I played with. I'll forever worry about him, wonder how he's doing and argue with him. He's a talented musician, an intelligent student, a good brother and son. His girlfriend says he's sweet, but scary sometimes.
Happy birthday Nunik!