Currently this little guy is at a crossroads.
The time has come for him to either accept or deny the fact that his younger brother is now a worthy opponent, capable of causing bodily injury.
And by accept I mean realize it to be so and smartly act accordingly, meaning do not pick fights with said younger brother.
And by deny I mean pretend like it just isn’t so and pick fights anyway in the hopes that maybe it’s all just a bad dream.
I think it’s pretty clear which option Bosco has chosen.
And all I can do is give him a quiet little shout out, “Here’s to trying son!” and a disapproving yet understanding side glance. 'Tis hard for an eldest child to choke back the pride and embrace the knowledge that they are no longer in control of their younger siblings, I know. Oh I know first-hand, being the first born of five girls.
Would it please you to see the scar I have on my right hand from the wickedest pinch ever burned into the flesh of a first-born child such as myself, courtesy of a sibling eighteen months my junior?
Well it’s not showing up super impressive on photograph, but it’s a show stopper in real life if you squint your eyes just so. Trust.
But for all my battle wounds I cannot force Bosco into submission. He will have to learn the hard way, or at least the dumb way. Or maybe he will never learn, just like me. Maybe that is the stubborn destiny of an eldest child, prideful, slightly deluded, confident, and covered in scratches. But still oldest! Neener, neener!