Monday, October 23, 2006

Being the Big Sister.

The wisdom of my years is a result of two and a half decades of practicing my balance of power. Born into this predicament, I tried to learn from famous people in history how to control those under my rule. While learning the famous philosophy of Machiavelli; “It is better to be feared than loved”, I wasn’t thinking of anything other than how to put that into effect in my domain; the home.

Before my recent discovery, I had grown up as the eldest sibling, cousin, and grandchild on both sides. From the minute I was a mere belly, I felt very important. Never having been good at taking orders, I rescheduled my due date to fit my personal comfort and took my sweet time (2 weeks), coming out. I would imagine that after being wrapped and taken from my mother’s arms to the nursery, I had waved regally, like the Queen Mother at bystanders in the hallway of the maternity ward.


Years later when I had to greet the newcomers to my territory, I didn’t fathom that I would have to put up with so much ignorance. I was now responsible for guiding those “unwashed” masses to the light of knowledge. Teaching them how to adapt themselves into a high society was going to be a challenge.


“Would you please stop dribbling all over your stuffed giraffe,” I would kindly request with a smile. Patiently waiting for a reaction, I would get a wide eyed stare from my dear sibling, and assuming I had communicated well, would only turn around to find the unfortunate giraffe sopping in infantile saliva. But thankfully, with the progress of their language skills they came to understand better what I was saying. I didn’t want to be bossy, but I did know everything. And as absolute power corrupts, so did I.

“It’s good to be the King” was something I had pompously uttered under my breath on numerous occasions after having defeated a sibling-peasant, and proved that I was in fact “cleverer”, “bigger” and “righter”.

Of course just like history has shown us before, the “unjustly wronged” peasant, will revolt. After some time, the little rascals had formed a secret alliance based on mutiny and their infamous slogan “GET IT YOURSELF!!!” Still, my leadership persevered, sensing that they hadn’t gained enough power, because their newly found bravery had not yet enabled them to add derogatory adjectives to their protests; for example: “No, you lazy cow!”

However with the years, they realized that children born after 1980 had some sort of insidious growth hormone that made them taller and larger than those unfortunate ones born in the previous decades. With the growth spurt, came the downfall of my ill-fated Queendom. And although my administration still felt that we knew best and were in fact looking for the welfare of those ungrateful “peasants”, the menacing look was no longer an effective domestic policy.

Soon I had to look into ridiculous new tactics, like the “Ice-cream Campaign”. This failure of a plan, was based on the motivation that obedient ones were rewarded with a double scoop of Rainbow Sorbet on a cone, a dessert choice often avoided by mothers who favored non-sticky offspring. But that back fired, because when funds were low or Baskin Robbins was closed, there was always an outrageous yet creative uprising. And then due to the racket produced by the unsettled masses, I would get a menacing look from the governing forces also known as legal guardians.

I quickly found myself to be impatient and very much out of control. I had hypertension at the age of 9. Would nobody listen to my WISDOM?!!

These are the downsides to being a leader. Communicating to the ‘nitwits’ that I knew best was taxing and pointless. Trying to right their wrongs and avenge their victims always made me look like the bad guy. All I sought was justice and at the mature age of 9 ¾ I felt I was more than qualified to govern.

“Admit it!! You shaved your barbie’s HEAD????” I screamed one afternoon.

“No..” she said defiantly as if to dare me to prove it.

“Well, does she have alopecia?! Or maybe the master mind over there did it” I yelled pointing at my 2 year old brother, who turned to look at me, with a piece of cheese hanging from his mouth.

“For your information, just yesterday, I saw him giving free hair cuts to three lace pillows, a lamp shade, and the leopard rug.” Counsel was trying to present new and confusing evidence to get away with her crime.

“I know it was you. And one day I will prove it.” I walked away to put my barbies in a safe place. Until today, there has been no confession, she still claims that the culprit was indeed the cheese eating fool who was watching cartoons. He was Keyser Soze.

I love these guys.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

absolutely hilarious girl!

Anonymous said...

heya... ever since i heard of your blog,, i've been checking it for updates regularly,, i really really enjoy reading your stories and must have already lost about 3 kilos LAUGHING.. goodbye jenny craig! Keep them coming please.. wish u all the best!

Basma Mattar said...

FYI: I NEVER TOUCHED THAT BARBIE! And why r u so upset, it was MINE!