The Hardest thing in life? Forget working 9-5, try having siblings

(An Excerpt) 

The hardest thing in life in my opinion is having brothers and sisters, and before you start lecturing me about the struggles of giving birth or having a 9-5 job, then I would kindly remind you to cast your mind back (and for some it may be a struggle, I know) to when you were 16 and had to baby sit your siblings. For those unlucky enough to have had this experience; I’m sure we can happily or lamentably agree in this case that it is probably the worst night of a person’s existence right? For those rare and lucky few out there who have never had to endure this kind of torture, you’re all probably sat there peacefully drinking your cup of tea and judging me. I would however like to point out that, that very course of action would not be possible for me. Not the judging part, that’s just human nature, I mean the peacefully drinking part. Because the thing with having siblings is that peace and quiet becomes a far flung fantasy. Even sitting down becomes a chore because they’ve either occupied the sofa, managing to stretch out their miniature frames to hog every square inch of it, or it’s littered with toys which then requires effort to move them. That’s bearable of course; I mean I’m not some spoilt upper class girl.  But Friday nights spent babysitting is when the real torture begins.

The thing with little kids is that they’re smart. Like Fantastic Mr. Fox Smart, which is just a nice way of saying their sneaky and sly. Because if were really honest Mr. Fox is a bit of a dick, I mean since when was stealing from hard working farmers commendable? And yes I know he did it to feed his family and the farmers weren’t all that nice, but that doesn’t make stealing from them acceptable. And why does he have to eat turkey and goose anyway? All the other foxes seem to survive perfectly fine without having the need to raid a farmhouse. And don’t even get me started on the fact that if he just ate squirrels or whatever average foxes eat, the farmers wouldn’t have felt the need to destroy the surrounding hills looking for him. And a good example of my siblings’ being sly is when I’m babysitting them, and it’s the start of the night. My parents are putting on their shoes and coats and reminding them that I’m in charge and that they should always listen to their older sister. And of course like any good parents, my mum and dad are always sceptical about leaving all 3 of us alone and so before they leave they always ask my siblings to repeat what they have said. And do you know what they do? They actually repeat my parent’s instructions word for word, like they were actually listening; they even had the audacity to reassure my parents that everything will be fine. And just like all parents they fall for it, because how could you not believe such angelic faces? So my parents leave the house, guilt free, and their minds at ease. The first hour of babysitting is endurable but that’s only because they’re entertained by the Television and the tablets, and when I say tablets I mean the electronic device not drugs. After 8 o’clock or so it’s a different story because all the kid appropriate programmes have finished and it’s around this point that they start to get restless, and so they try to entertain themselves. And for some reason their imagination seems to be heightened during the night and they start spouting crazy ideas like; ‘Hey Sam can we go for a midnight walk,’ ‘Can we build a den?’ ‘Can we make some cookies for mum and dad for when they get back?’ or ‘Hey Sam can we please build a rocket ship to the moon so that we can see if it’s really made of cheese?’ As a responsible baby sitter I of course have to say no, and that’s when they start whining and whinging and crying and throwing tantrums, and start demanding that they want mum and dad back. And it is usually around this point that the house phones rings, as if my mum has some sort of secret radar that tells her when were fighting. It’s always my sister that gets to the phone first, and do you know what she does? She re-assures my mum that everything is fine and that yes she’s behaving herself and yes she’ll go to bed soon and no Sam doesn’t want to talk, and then she hangs up the phone with massive smile on her face. 

Style Model: http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2014/aug/11/want-to-silence-a-two-year-old-charlie-brooker