Little siblings are really devious ones. Especially my sis. She’s rail thin and tall like a model, but acts ten years old instead of fourteen. Sometimes she comes into my room, carrying her half-eaten Piattos and, generously, tells me I can have it. Happily I munch away. Right after I finish her chips, she tells me she’s gonna use my computer. I say, sorry, I still have some surfing, er, working to do. And then she puts her hand on her hips and cries, “But I gave you my Piattos!”
Another time, she comes in my room, looking all vulnerable and upset, and says in that little-girl voice, “I’m hungry.” Forgetting I haven’t eaten myself yet, forgetting I still have to finish my blog post, forgetting everything, I ask her what she wants for lunch. She tells me she wants a hotdog, sliced 3 times, 2 strips of bacon, not too crispy, not too soft, a sunny-side up egg, well done but soft at the center and garlic rice with just the right amount of salt cooked in the oil of the bacon and hotdog, “just like mama does it.” Older sis grumbles, but follows orders. And when her cooking comes up short of her mother’s, she has to do it all over again.
Or, take Gim’s baby brother. One time, Gino was out in the porch playing his toy car. A wheel comes off and he gets mad, so he throws the entire thing on the floor. More parts come off and he gets madder and starts throwing all his other toys on the floor. Gimmi the older bro warns him to stop. Gino throws a toy truck. Gimmi tells him that if he throws another toy he’s gonna confiscate them. Gino throws another toy. Gimmi gets fed up and takes all his toys and places them up high where Gino can’t retrieve them. Gino gets all red and angry and screams at the top of his lungs. Gimmi, my dearest, falls all over himself to placate the kid, gives him back all his toys and promises him donuts and chocolates when he comes home.
And we wonder why our younger siblings are spoiled!