If I have ever experienced culture shock, this week would be it.
Siblings. I grew up without any, an only child is the term. It had its good points and bad points, and when I finally decided I wanted kids I knew it would be more than one. Being an only child isn’t horrible by any means, I just had this vision in my head about my children playing together and sharing secrets and having wonderful times together growing up. People around me encouraged this lovely dream, especially when we found out we were pregnant with #3, due just 17 months after #2.
“Oh, they’ll be the best of friends!” If I had a dollar every time I heard that, especially from my well-meaning mother in law.
Obviously my well-meaning mother in law and well-meaning friends were not in the car with me as we drove home from preschool this week. Imagine if you will a 3 year old kicking, screaming, and generally making us all miserable. What brought on this sudden need for an exorcism? His brother was looking at him. Oh, the horror of it all. The evil brother with his laser-beam eyes was sitting there with his fingers in his ears wondering why Brendan had lost his mind 2/3 of the way home on an otherwise normal day.
Best friends? A plague on all your houses I say!