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It's 2003. From the outside looking in, my family is a kind-looking kin.

Two parents who work hard, three siblings who get somewhat along.

You get our Christmas card in the mail and think,

oh, that's a wonderful looking family.

Good haircuts, well-dressed, shirt tucked in.

They must be nice.

But that's from the outside looking in. So let me let you

in to Halloween night of 2003. We get home from the neighborhood rush and get into the living room

and do the thing where you dump all your candy onto the floor and each kid has their pile.

And I notice in my brother's pile something that catches my eye, a glossy, delicious looking

candy cane, two months early, just waiting there to be enjoyed.

And simply put, he had what I wanted.

I got no candy cane.

So in that situation, I'm left with two options.

I can swallow my pride and be happy for him, or I can wrestle.

So the match begins, ding, ding, ding.

As the younger brother, my smaller stature limits my strategy,

and so I do what the younger sibling does in that moment.

I take to biting.

And I don't remember much from my childhood, but for some reason I remember this moment

...