THE BRAT
My sibling is such a brat.
He crashes on Mom’s couch every single night, even though he has his own room with a massive bunk bed. I have to sleep in my own bed just because I’m older, which is so unfair since I had my own room when I was his age.
In the mornings, he’s always the first one up, which means he gets to choose the show we watch. I end up stuck watching Batman and Star Wars, even though they’re not my favorites at all. And to top it off, he hogs the blanket, leaving my legs cold while he’s snug as a bug in his pajamas.
He should be picking out his own clothes by now. He’s five and heading into kindergarten! But he’s so slow that Mom has to dress him, or else he’d still be in his pajamas.
If I pinch him back after he hits me first, he cries like a baby, and Mom gets mad at me. So what if my pinch is a bit harder? I’m just stronger!
At dinner, I have to eat seven bites of whatever new food is on my plate because I’m seven, but he only has to choke down one or two. How does that even make sense?
He loves blowing bubbles in his milk, and guess who gets in trouble when my drink spills over? Yep, me. I can fit more air in my cheeks, but apparently that’s my problem.
When we play sports, Mom and Dad act all impressed when he hits the ball. Seriously? I’m just saving my strength for important things, like hitting him back!
His stuffed bear smells like old socks, yet Mom insists it’s the best stuffed animal ever. But I love my plush friends just as much, and I know they’re not real either.
I don’t get how Mom can say that The Brat is sweet and adorable. She’s always showering him with kisses and hugs, doing all sorts of gross stuff like that. And Dad thinks The Brat is the coolest. Yuck!
Sometimes, I think they love him more than me.
THE MARVEL
My brother believes he’s a marvel just because he’s younger, which somehow makes Mom and Dad think he’s extra special. But I know he’s just a brat.
He thinks he’s so amazing because he can read stories all by himself with real words, not the made-up ones I come up with. But honestly, I like my words better, even if they only make sense to me!
He also draws pictures that look like actual people and animals, while mine are just scribbles that nobody can interpret. Mom swoons over his art and frames it, while mine gets thumb-tacked to the kitchen corkboard where no one pays attention. So, I’ve taken to adding my own flair to his masterpieces. Fair is fair!
He rides his bike up and down the street without falling, and guess what? Mom never chases after him yelling about safety. It’s so unfair!
When we play, he gets to be the teacher, the zookeeper, or the camp counselor, just because he comes up with the games. Sheesh, he’s so bossy!
And why does he get playdates every single day just because his friends live next door? My friends live a half-hour away, so I hardly ever see them outside of school and camp.
It’s also not fair that Mom and Dad take him out for special activities, while I’m stuck with my little brother just because we’re both boys.
Then Mom kisses him and tickles him and does all those gross things. And Dad thinks my brother is the one who made them a family. YUCK!
Sometimes, I think they love him more than me.
Conclusion
In summary, sibling rivalry is a tale as old as time, filled with jealousy and love. Each child feels overlooked and underappreciated while simultaneously grappling with the unique qualities that make them special. It’s a bittersweet dance of emotions that many families can relate to.
Keyphrase: sibling rivalry
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