There’s a funny part of life when you’re thrust full-force into a relationship that you had absolutely no say in. A person is put in front of you and you are expected to teach them things, insert them into your everyday life, share your food with them, take turns with the TV and let them use the best crayons. Not only that, you are expected to cause no physical or mental trauma and still beyond that, love them. Life turns upside down when mom & dad come home with your sibling.
My first one arrived when I was three. Being very young, I don’t have many memories of his arrival, other than being told to be quiet when he was finally asleep, as he was pretty fussy and particular – still is. I’ll boast that I took pretty well to being a big sister, or as I saw myself – the Midget Monarch. I taught him well from the beginning how to pour the proper amount of juice in my favorite green cup, how to place my hard-earned ‘You Did It!’ Cheerios bowl just right on the couch cushion so it would not spill over, and exactly where on the floor to sit while I was watching TV. There was a sweet spot where his larger than expected head would not block my view and he would still be close enough to change the channel when I got bored, yet far enough that he was not in danger of losing his eyesight from sitting too close. Because, really, those old TVs were death machines, right? Overall, I think I was too young to subject him to situations of intense distress.
Our sister was not so lucky.
Little brother & I went about seven years just humming along, doing our thang, loving life, playing until the street lights went on and fighting like hell. One of our favorite memories is of our mom trying to yell at us for something and not being able to find the words she wanted. Talk about sentence fragments! Baby brain must be hereditary. When baby girl arrived, we were 10 and seven. Prime age to harass. And tease. And teach?
When she arrived it was with a bang! Actually several thousand bangs. The arrival of princess was such an event that not only was our family growing, but the house we lived in had to grow to accommodate all 6 lbs. 10 oz. of her. A second story was built to support the expansion. We were old enough to realize that we loved her right away. At 10, I felt like her second mom and nothing has changed in 26 years in that respect. My brother and I faithfully took on the role of teachers, sharing important life lessons with her. Lessons that I’m sure she reflects upon fondly and appreciates us more because of.
Like the time we taught her the proper way to wash dishes. This is an important life skill, one that we were expected to perform daily and with proper care and attention to detail. After dinner one summer evening, our parents went for a walk and left us to clean up. Munchkin promptly left the room, leaving my brother and I to complete the only task asked of us. She was about five, and clearly at an appropriate age to help out with chores, but she refused to help. What were we to do? As older siblings, it was our responsibility, our civic duty to make sure she became a good citizen, to make sure she pulled her weight not only within our household, but out in the world. What kind of role models would we be if we simply let her walk away and shirk her responsibilities to the community? Ineffective ones, that’s what. And we would have nothing of it! Her future and her contributions to the world depended on us, in this very moment. We had to make a decision that would effect us all for years to come. We knew, as we were standing in that kitchen, awful linoleum “brick” floor under our feet, that our moment had come. The moment when great leaders are made.
We calmly requested her presence back in the kitchen. She rudely declined. We asked again, reminding her that she was a part of this small village, and her participation in its upkeep was essential to success. She ran away giggling. After some persistence, she finally admitted that she did not know HOW to do the dishes. What? Well, then we must teach you, young grasshopper. We would do the job and show her the important intricacies of the task of dish washing. You must stand at a proper angle to the sink, use the perfect amount of dish soap, adding an appropriate amount of water to adequately conjure up a continuous stream of bubbles to whisk away the sticky remnants of the nourishment we had ingested to support our essential body functions. She still refused our help. But we knew deep down she wanted it, perhaps she was just too ashamed to ask. How do we solve this problem?
We looked at each other knowingly and shared a faint nod. Duct tape. A wise man once said “the true Leader always has Duct Tape.” When she was finally caught, exhibiting feigned resistance in the form of half-hearted kicking, she was lovingly placed in her kitchen chair and fastened securely to it. Our young pupil sat in that chair and watched the dishes be cleaned. She watched intently. She watched with a gleam of understanding in her eye. I could see into her soul and found the appreciation deep down inside her. She writhed with excitement at the revelation that was happening before her eyes. Tears of joy streamed down her pretty little face. Her body finally relaxed as a moment of realization flowed through her and she continued to watch. She watched until we saw our parents coming back up the walkway.
And when she was unfastened from the chair, she immediately ran to them and told them of her experience. She proclaimed loudly that she had been ‘forced’ to watch us clean the dishes. She was only five, of course she meant ‘given the opportunity.’ You’re welcome, my child.
You’re welcome.
6 Comments
Another Erma Bombeck in the making!!!
You are a prolific writer, I chuckled all the way through this. Well, actually I laughed and thought of a related experience/opportunity I was once given by my god sister.
I’d like to note, that your village did an amazing job at raising an amazing young woman.
I hope you and your family are doing very well.
Sincerely,
Mark Anthony Mills
after reading this version,I have a new respect for all you and your brother taught your sister.I personally have seen her do dishes 3 or 4 times in the last several years.
I’m so glad you taught her well….
now i don’t have to worry about her taking care of herself!
Omg this is such a funny and great story…. I felt like I was there w you
This made me laugh out loud! Very well written.