1/28/2011

My Stolen Rights

Seeing as I am the oldest child, and also the only girl, I am naturally a bossy boots. The sad thing is, my brothers are not easy to boss. In fact, sometimes they upset the natural order of things, and boss me! That, of course, is unacceptable. Oldest children have an inherent right to be bossy. However, it’s quite impertinent for a younger child to assume they do!
    I remember the day Sam decided he no longer had to obey me. It was pretty awful. I cried. We must have been around seven and eight; we were going to play a game, and he was going to be the monkey. I’m not sure what kind of game it was, but it involved a monkey. Unfortunately, Sam did not want to be the monkey. I thought it was simple: I had told him to be the monkey, so he would be the monkey. But tragically, it had just dawned on Sam that he didn’t have to obey me, and so he refused to be the monkey. And that’s how my reign of bossiness ended.
    There’s still the two younger boys, but they were kind of spoiled by Sam’s example. Consequently, I can boss all I want, but nobody listens to me. It’s rather depressing, and I wonder, “why did this happen to me?” I know lots of girls my age who are still bossing their brothers. On the other hand, their brothers aren’t named Sam, and that makes a difference.
    Anyway, I thought I would share that with you. I think I’m scarred for life by it. Maybe I should go to therapy to help me work through the trauma. On the other hand, maybe not. Maybe I should send my brothers to therapy. They’re the ones with the problem. I mean, I’m quite capable of fulfilling my role as Chief Bossy Boots. They just won’t accept their role as The Ones To Be Bossed.
    I really don’t understand it. What did I ever do? Maybe I should become a baby-sitter, and vent my pent-up bossiness on poor innocent children. No, that’s not fair. I should just work up my courage, and persist in bossing my brothers, and they will just have to accept that. No, that won’t work either... Well, just forget I brought it up. My case is hopeless. I’ll just *sniff*, be nice to them and, *sniff*, try not to cry because my.... Waaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!

                            I’m okay. Really, I’m okay. I’m sorry if I got hysterical. I’m okay, I’m okay...

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