The stool creaked back and forth as the young boy grasped the countertop, peeking over. His fingertips turned white and his neck craned to see the activity going on above. Water splashed in his eye and he paused to wipe it away. There in the sink was his baby brother, getting his warm evening bath. Two pink hands gathered the soapy water and threw it out to see what it would do. Nothing too exciting, only made the older boy annoyed. Maybe if he tried again... A woman's hand poured water over his bald head.

"Don't do that Angus, let's keep the water inside the sink," corrected his mother. She smiled when she received a giggle from her child. The older boy stood clear on the tips of his toes to watch his mother. She gently scrubbed him with the amber soap he'd seen so many times before. When there was enough bubbles to wash three of him, she'd rinse him off. More water splashed in his eye and into his nose. "Oops, sorry Malcolm."

"Mummy, what-what that?" the two year old pointed while the other hand wiped his eye.

"Careful Malcolm, don't stand on the stool like that, always hold on to something." Malcolm placed his hands on the countertop. "Now what do you need?"

"What that?"

"What's this?" She pointed at Angus. Malcolm shook his head and pointed at the amber liquid. "Mally, you know what this is. This is Angus' baby soap. I used it on all you kids."

"Baby toap?"

"Yeah. I used it on you all the time. Now it's Angus' turn."

"Angoose."

"Angus Malcolm, Angus. Want to say hi?" His mother wiped her hands on a dish towel and lifted Malcolm up. The view was much better from his mother's arms and he could see everything she saw. Tiny bubbles floating above Angus' head and he watched them with delight. Pudgy fingers reaching out for the yellow duck and bringing it to a curious mouth. Water dripping off the walls and kitchen cabinets from Angus' solid throwing arm.

Malcolm rubbed his eye again even though the next tidal wave missed him. It was ten minutes past his bedtime but his mother let him stay up to watch her bathe the baby. He watched the baby sit in the sink, kicking the silver plastic rim. That used to be his bath. He may not have remembered using it, but he knew he was moved to a new location once that baby came along.

Oh sure, those boys got along. As well as a couple of goldfish. They were usually doing their own thing; Malcolm with his toys and Angus getting (another) new diaper. When they were together it meant no one else was home to watch either of them so their mother had her hands full. Those hours were full of squeals and gurgles, poking and prodding, and lots of sticky fingers.

And then there were moments like these when the house was real quiet and Angus had yet to take his bath. Malcolm was allowed one extra hour to stay up and watch, then it was time for bed. The nights never stayed quiet though, as Angus would end up crying eventually for food or some extra attention.

Malcolm tried that once. He noticed Angus crying every hour one night and their mother or father would come in their room and snuggle him up. After practicing a few times he got a good cry going and even worked up a few tears. But when his mother came in she just gave him a bottle to hold by himself. No pats, no cuddles. He was big enough to hold his own bottle they said. So much for living the easy life.

Two big blue eyes blinked up at him sparkling with mirth. Angus had successfully thrown his rubber duck at his brother, hitting him right on the top of his head. Malcolm was all ready to throw something heavier at him but he was placed on the floor too soon. "Get yourself ready for bed Malcolm, I'll be up in a moment to tuck you in."

"One more hour," the boy requested. His mother sighed and looked at the wall clock. He still had forty five minutes but Malcolm saw it as a full hour. And being the toddler he was, he became a master at negotiation.

"When the big hand reaches the seven, it's time for bed." The boy scampered up the stairs and headed for his toy chest. He pulled out a train and spun it twice before setting it aside. He found his yo-yo which had broken last month. That was also set aside. His tower of building blocks was already complete, so he knocked it over. These toys had gotten boring, he was ready for something new. Leaving his room in a messy state, he explored the bathroom he and all his siblings shared.

Malcolm was never allowed in here by himself. His mother bathed him in here and helped him go to the bathroom much to his insistence of doing it himself. But since she was busy with the new baby, she wouldn't mind if he just took a peek.

The light flickered on above and all the shadows vanished behind real objects. The first thing the boy set his mind on was the ivory bathtub. Bottles of all different colors lay assorted on the edge. He picked each one up delicately and examined them. Of course he couldn't read the labels just yet, but he knew they were used for washing. The blue one for his head and the clear one for his skin.

A certain green bottle in the corner caught his attention. It was smooth and round, with a picture of a strawberry. As far as Malcolm was concerned, strawberries were red not green, so it peaked his interest as to why they would be kept in a green bottle. He picked it up and rubbed his fore finger on the label. The top was a pump and Malcolm's fist was strong enough to push it down.

He winced as a wet spray attacked his face and stung his nose. It smelled just like strawberries. He remembered the scent from a cake his mother had made the month before for a relative. It was pink with a white trim. Malcolm reached a hand into the batter only for the bowl to be taken away and placed on a high shelf. "Don't eat raw cake Malcolm, you'll get worms."

Malcolm didn't know what worms had to do with cake, only that he didn't get a free taste. Once the stinging in his nose had stopped, he clenched the bottle tightly in his hands and toddled downstairs.

Peering around the corner, in fear of his plan getting cut short, he saw his mother washing the sink with Angus on the kitchen tile, not so much as a diaper on. Happy as ever to be free. Malcolm inched his way over holding the bottle ever so tightly. He dropped it once shaking the contents up, but his mother didn't hear it. Placing the bottle in front of his brother, he aimed the spout in his direction. Angus only looked at it.

Malcolm sped the process up by taking the baby's hands and placing them on the pump. A silvery thread of drool dangled from Angus' mouth and pooled all over the bottle covering it in a thick sheet. It was taken away from him and two slightly stronger hands pressed down the pump. A spray just as before surrounded Angus' face. It smelled like strawberries. Malcolm got sprayed too by a snotty sneeze. That did not smell like strawberries.

His hand once again rubbed his face clear of any water and whatever else. The phone rang making his scalp jump and he rushed to the stairs with the slimy bottle. The baby started crying and Malcolm hid in the bathroom. Hiding the bottle back where he found it he ran into his room and shut the door.

"I'm coming Angus," the woman said wrapping a towel around her crying infant. "I know, the phone ringing is a scary thing."

"Mum, there's a field trip tomorrow at school and I was wondering-"

"Oh Margaret sweetie, can you take Angus up to his room? I've got to get the phone." The baby was placed in the young girl's arms before she could protest.

"What about my field trip?"

"I'll sign it sweetie. Hello?" Her mother picked up the landline and leaned against the wall. Angus cried into his older sister's shoulder and she patted his back.

"Come on Angie, let's go see your brother," Margaret cooed. She carried him upstairs leaving her mother to talk with their father about why he was coming home late again.

Three knocks on Malcolm's door before opening it to the huge mess of toys. Malcolm himself was hiding under Angus' crib. "Here we are Angus. Let's get you ready for bed, huh? Now where's-" Margaret looked down and saw her little brother squeezed under the piece of furniture. "Malcolm, what are you doing?"

"Dunno..." the little boy droned. His little fingers picked at the carpet as an excuse not to look at his sister. It proved difficult when an arm reached under to pull him out. Resisting would only lead to a konk on the head so he complied.

"Mally, what were you doing under there?"

"Playing." Angus' cries drowned out his answer and Margaret held her hand around her ear.

"What?"

"Playing," Malcolm stated louder. He wrung his hands together. Margaret took one hand in hers and led him to his dresser.

"Pick out your pajamas, then clean this room before you get in bed. Okay beansprout?"

"Kay."

Angus snored into his older sister's shoulder. Both boys were snug in their pajamas in Malcolm's bed in the clean room. Malcolm sat beside Margaret watching her rock the baby. His hand reached out and gently pressed the pink nose, then went down to his lips. His skin was soft. Had his ever been that soft? He'd ask his mother tomorrow, that is, if he didn't forget overnight.

Margaret rubbed the sleeping baby's head then brushed Malcolm's hair. His eyes fluttered from halfway open to closed every few seconds. Within minutes, he was asleep. Margaret leaned down to kiss him, and sniffed. She sniffed Angus too just to be sure. She recognized that smell as her special perfume her friend gave her at a sleepover.

"Why do you two smell like strawberries?" she whispered. There was no answer.