People say all the time how “lucky” my new little brother is. Imagine a three year old little boy living in a Russian orphanage, who didn’t know how to play with the simplest toys, and couldn’t eat with a spoon or fork. He wasn’t able to talk much and was so weak and skinny he could barley walk. Even though he was three, he only weighed a little over 20 pounds. He had never been held or tucked in to sleep. He didn’t have a mother to wipe his tears, or pick him up when he fell down. No one put his pictures up on a refrigerator and looked at them proudly. Worst of all, he had never really been loved.