My little sister has a list of my transgressions as the older sibling... among them the time my mom told us no more water in our bedrooms for tea parties. So I came up with a remedy! I was always very innovative. I very patiently filled up a little tea cup with my spit so we could have a "real tea party". It wasn't my fault... she was never forced to drink it! And really it was my mom's fault for making such a silly rule.
Then there was the time we were going through the Robo carwash and I told her that the flappy wipey things were old Sesame Street monsters... instead of there being a retirement home for the elderly muppets, they were sent to carwashes. My mom wondered for years why she would cry when we would go through the carwash.
One I remember distinctly is when I was about four and she was a few months old. We were leaving KFC (then actually called Kentucky Fried Chicken). My dad was driving, mom was in the front seat of our VW bug holding my sister. (These were the days before carseats.) My sister stuck her finger out to be "biten". It was something she did regularly and we pretend bit her finger, and she giggled. I remember thinking I was SO tired of her getting all the attention. I bit her finger. I bit it hard completely on purpose. She started crying and I knew I was in big trouble. I wasn't though. My mom soothed her and told me not to bite hard in a very calm voice. My little sister obviously doesn't remember this.
It has started in our house... the teasing/tormenting of the younger sibling. And poor Skadi, she has a big brother, a mom who is a firstborn and a father who is a firstborn. Poor thing is destined to never be understood.
Yesterday it was a normal evening as we hung out in the backyard after our walk. Leif was watering the garden, AB and I examining the progress of our gardens, Skadi in the bouncey seat on the shaded patio sound asleep.
AB and I were discussing what to do with our plum tree. For many years since it was planted it has been my favorite tree yielding about 2 small bags of plums a year and being nearly maintenance free while providing screening from our apartment neighbors. This year something has gone awry and we have literally a thousand or more little cherry sized plums on our tree. Something needs to be done... now.
Suddenly we hear Skadi scream! We whip around to see our son standing in front of the bouncey seat spraying her with the hose (nozzle and all)! AB takes off running and grabs Skadi, gets her calmed down and changed. I grab Leif, nearly by the ear and dragged him inside where he stood in a corner screaming at the top of his lungs, where in typical parental fashion was never given a chance to explain his actions.
It has started. Everything that goes into what defines us as the typical oldest/middle/youngest child is now in play in my house.
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