By the time I was five, I knew that there were differences between Jacob and me. I had to eat everything on my plate, but Jacob was allowed to leave behind things like peas and tomatoes because he didn’t like the way they felt inside his mouth. Whatever kids’ tape I was listening to in the car while we drove took a backseat to anything by Bob Marley. I had to pick up all my toys after I was done playing, but the six-foot line of Matchbox cars that Jacob had spent the day arranging perfectly straight was allowed to snake down the hallway for a month until he got tired of it.
