As three smartly dressed women stepped onto the elevator, D pulled his little brother back in. "Wait, E, that's not our door."
"You like Kool-Aid, don't you? You look like you've been drinking Kool-Aid," said a faux blonde in gray tweed.
"You're a terrific big brother," another chimed.
"Yes, he's lucky to have you for a big brother, isn't he?" the first woman added with an ingratiating tone.
"Well," my seven year old said, "I think I'm just lucky to have him."
"Aaaaw!" All three women chorused at the same time. "Isn't he sweet?" "How cute." "I'm just lucky..."

They clicked away in their high heeled boots across the marble floor.
"Mom, now that was the least fun time of my life," he said with a furrowed brow.
"Why is that, D?" I asked.
"They were making fun of my chapped lips by saying that I like Kool-Aid."