The #1 son has his nose out of joint because he says that I favor The Pony. This is because every time he is mean to The Pony, I take The Pony's side. Let's face it, #1 is twice the size of The Pony. He is more than three years older. The Pony has taken his lumps from the time he could sit up, all wobbly in that new baby skill kind of way, leaning from side to side, reaching for a toy, when #1 would run through the room, pat him heavily on the head like a Whack-A-Mole Game missing its hammer, and shout, "Baby Smacky! Baby Smacky!" until The Pony toppled over like David Hasselhoff ready to eat a floor hamburger. So perhaps you can see why I side with The Pony. Everybody roots for the underdog. In fact, I have told #1 forever that "When you are mean to The Pony, it makes me love him more." Not, it makes me love him more than you, mind you. But that it makes me love him more. As in, he needs extra love at the moment because you were mean to him and he can't fight back because he's too little.
#1 flipped out today. He was mouthing at The Pony from the shotgun seat of T-Hoe, a seat that rarely is graced by The Pony's rump, seeing as how #1 has permanently called that seat for life, when The Pony had a bellyfull of bullying, and decided to fight back in the only way he can, what with being strapped into the seat behind me, and poked a hoof at #1, who rides with the shotgun seat leaned back like he's on the space shuttle launch pad. #1 mouthed that he would break that hoof off if it was poked at him again, and I said that I could certainly understand why The Pony would do such a thing, and that The Pony had better not turn up lame, and all this picking at The Pony only made me love him more.
#1 declared, "Don't I know it. You've told me that ever since you rocked me in the crib, 'I love your brother more.' " I disagreed, first of all because I never rocked #1 in the crib, as he was one of those babies who refused to sleep in his crib, preferring instead to cuddle his downy skull into the hirsute armpit of HH whilst he snoozed in between us in our queen size bed nightly until he was six months old, and secondly because #1 would not be rocked, but would arch his back and twist his head and scream until he was held still. And thirdly because there was no little brother to threaten him with back then. Funny thing, #1 never stops to consider that he gets everything new and The Pony gets his hand-me-down clothes and toys and bed and computer and books and games. Or that when they each have identical items, and #1 breaks his, it always turns out that The Pony's is broken, but that #1's item is OK. Interesting, that odd coincidence.
Since #1 was being so unreasonable, I confessed. "Most women sing to their babies in utero. But not me. I chanted, 'I will love your brother more than I will love you.' And furthermore, when I was in high school, instead of drawing hearts and writing my name as Mrs. Boyfriend At The Time over and over...I wrote on my notebooks: 'I will love my second son more than my first son.' Yeah. So now you know."
I think I made my point.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
when they each have identical items, and #1 breaks his, it always turns out that The Pony's is broken, but that #1's item is OK. Interesting, that odd coincidence.
AHA! My sister did that same crap to me, and she's YOUNGER! It's not an age thing, HM, it's a manipulation thing. My little sister will forever be better at manipulating people and situations than I am. Okay it's kinda sleazy, but she can get sh*t done.
Funny you wrote about this. The possibility of favoring one child over the other is something Tim and I are worried about. I'm skeered I might favor Charlie over #2, or vice versa. Some parents do, ya know.
At least you set them straight. The Pony sounds like he usually takes his little brother role and the b.s. that comes with it in stride.
Miss Ann,
I was worried about that before I had the spare. You find out that you can't love one more than the other. But you will stick up for the one that's getting the short end of the deal, no matter which one it is.
The Pony is a laid-back dude. He deals with it.
I am constantly hearing, "Hey! Why'd you give HER [insert scathingly valuable childhood/tween commodity here]?" and "That's not fair! How come he got to [insert wildly fun and borderline illegal activity] and I didn't?" here at my house. When I hear such questions I answer with, "Oh, didn't you hear? I love him/her more. Sorry you didn't get the memo." It doesn't matter if I just told the other one the same thing about the complainer mere minutes before, I always love someone more. Not more THAN, like you say, just more. I never clarify, let 'em think what they want. I'm the mom so I can be vague. Right?
Kid you not, my word verification is: hooker - likely what my daughters will be because they were repeatedly told I loved a sibling more.
Diva,
By cracky, you might as well have given one of them Hooker for a middle name!
My mom gets all huffy with me for telling them things like that. She still hasn't gotten over me telling The Pony that the Tooth Fairy would come rip a tooth out of his mouth for hiding the original lost tooth in a Barrel of Monkeys to use again.
Post a Comment