Siblings
Brothers and sisters - can't live with 'em, can't stove 'em to death with the coal scuttle and bury 'em behind the local industrial estate. Tell us about yours.
Thanks to suboftheday for the suggestion -we're keeping the question open for another week for the New Year
( , Thu 25 Dec 2008, 17:20)
Brothers and sisters - can't live with 'em, can't stove 'em to death with the coal scuttle and bury 'em behind the local industrial estate. Tell us about yours.
Thanks to suboftheday for the suggestion -we're keeping the question open for another week for the New Year
( , Thu 25 Dec 2008, 17:20)
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I was the elder sister from hell
I have a very amusing picture stuffed away somewhere of me as a three year old visiting my mother in hospital after she'd just given birth to my brother. Dad had bought the bundle of joy a present supposedly from me - and the look on my face as I realised this present wasn't FOR me was priceless.
I think it was at this point little posage decided to make her brothers childhood a nightmare, and her sister to follow.
In our old house every room led into another room, meaning you could run all the way round the ground floor in a circle without stopping. According to my appauled parents, I used to play a "game" which involved me running round the house as fast as I could. So far, so innocent. Except my parents gradually realised that everytime I passed my baby brother's cot I would reach in and punch him.
At one stage I lifted baby brother out of his cot by his arm and dislocated his shoulder, doing exactly the same to my sister after she was born three years later.
When my sister was a toddler I used to say horrible cruel things to her out of a sort of morbid curiosity - to see how far I could push her before she cried. I also used to ask her, in front of my brother, who she loved the most - except I would say my name in a sing song voice so she would pick me.
My brother suffered from quite bad eczema as a child, and I once convinced him to eat a whole pack of sweeteners because I told him there were pills for his skin. He cried as he ate them because they tasted so bad.
I scooped up the biggest load of cocoa powder I could and told him it was chocolate powder. He greedily took the whole mouthful and promptly gagged and almost choked to death.
When we stayed at a farm during the school holidays I told him to go and pet the farmer's dog, knowing only too well that he was a grumpy and very territorial dog who liked to bite children. Several tears and stitches later I was told not to expect any pocket money for several months.
When he was about four or five I decided that now was the ideal time to tell him that Father Christmas didn't exist. He cried for days.
I was unbeliveably horrid to my sister as she grew up - I snapped at her whenever she said anything and once threw her across the room for waking me up (to be fair she has woken me up from a deep sleep by shaking me - I thought I was being attacked. Honest). I was bossy, controlling and just a generally massive bitch who terrorised her poor siblings for simply being there.
Even after all this, I get along with my brother and sister famously. We couldn't be closer (even if I do sometimes order little sis to make me food. She still obeys. It's her own fault really). We have so many private jokes that people from outside the family, even my parents, don't have a clue what we're talking about half the time. Only yesterday we laughed until we were almost sick over a stupid, immature joke that one of us made, while our puzzled extended family looked on.
Mr posage says my family is incredibly unusual, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
( , Fri 26 Dec 2008, 11:50, Reply)
I have a very amusing picture stuffed away somewhere of me as a three year old visiting my mother in hospital after she'd just given birth to my brother. Dad had bought the bundle of joy a present supposedly from me - and the look on my face as I realised this present wasn't FOR me was priceless.
I think it was at this point little posage decided to make her brothers childhood a nightmare, and her sister to follow.
In our old house every room led into another room, meaning you could run all the way round the ground floor in a circle without stopping. According to my appauled parents, I used to play a "game" which involved me running round the house as fast as I could. So far, so innocent. Except my parents gradually realised that everytime I passed my baby brother's cot I would reach in and punch him.
At one stage I lifted baby brother out of his cot by his arm and dislocated his shoulder, doing exactly the same to my sister after she was born three years later.
When my sister was a toddler I used to say horrible cruel things to her out of a sort of morbid curiosity - to see how far I could push her before she cried. I also used to ask her, in front of my brother, who she loved the most - except I would say my name in a sing song voice so she would pick me.
My brother suffered from quite bad eczema as a child, and I once convinced him to eat a whole pack of sweeteners because I told him there were pills for his skin. He cried as he ate them because they tasted so bad.
I scooped up the biggest load of cocoa powder I could and told him it was chocolate powder. He greedily took the whole mouthful and promptly gagged and almost choked to death.
When we stayed at a farm during the school holidays I told him to go and pet the farmer's dog, knowing only too well that he was a grumpy and very territorial dog who liked to bite children. Several tears and stitches later I was told not to expect any pocket money for several months.
When he was about four or five I decided that now was the ideal time to tell him that Father Christmas didn't exist. He cried for days.
I was unbeliveably horrid to my sister as she grew up - I snapped at her whenever she said anything and once threw her across the room for waking me up (to be fair she has woken me up from a deep sleep by shaking me - I thought I was being attacked. Honest). I was bossy, controlling and just a generally massive bitch who terrorised her poor siblings for simply being there.
Even after all this, I get along with my brother and sister famously. We couldn't be closer (even if I do sometimes order little sis to make me food. She still obeys. It's her own fault really). We have so many private jokes that people from outside the family, even my parents, don't have a clue what we're talking about half the time. Only yesterday we laughed until we were almost sick over a stupid, immature joke that one of us made, while our puzzled extended family looked on.
Mr posage says my family is incredibly unusual, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
( , Fri 26 Dec 2008, 11:50, Reply)
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