My brother and sister called my parents from Kathmandu this morning. My mother was delighted to hear that her ewe lamb had arrived safely in the Nepalese capital. He asked whether she had got their email and she said no. He began to double check that she had followed all the correct procedures for downloading when my sister snatched the mobile from him, muttering indignantly about the expense of giving this kind of advice on an Indian mobile from Nepal. There’s a good joke there about call centres; fill in the blanks yourselves please.
When my brother headed off to visit my sister in India, I had the following conversation with my mother:
Her: So, he’s off to India this week.
Me: I’m sure he’ll have a great time.
Her: He’s been really fantastic since your father has been ill.
Me: Yes, he has been very good.
Her: To be honest, I’m a little worried about him going.
Me: I can imagine, but Daddy’s on the mend now.
Her: Oh no, not because of me and Daddy but you know, India, it’s so far away and so different.
Me:Â But, but, your youngest daughter lives there.
Her (defensively): Well, it’s different for your brother, he might get ill.
Me: But, but, she was ill all the time.
Her: Well, your brother is very delicate.
Me: Gasp of outrage.
In conclusion, it is true what they say about Irish mothers and their sons and, apparently, sibling rivalry never really dies.
This is not exclusive to Irish mothers:
My mother on her and my father’s last anniversary: Oh I am so so thrilled that your brother sent me a card! He’s such a good boy! I mean, the champagne and salmon and big brass band and red-arrow fly-by that you organised was lovely too, but oh! He remembered and sent a card! He’s a good boy. Such a good boy.
(Actually, I had prodded him with sticks until he very grudgingly sent a card. Two days late.)
You’re right Waffle. Sibling rivalry still alive and well.
Sibling rivalry is indeed alive and well, expecially in Australia. I was hoping that my 2 elder brothers and I would grow out of it now that we are 36, 34 and nearly 30… but no.
Wow. How did we get to be those ages?
When they are embarrasing we argue over whose parents they were first or last. This argument never really gets us anywhere.
Good luck with nablopomo!
Bah! The spelling, sorry! I am really tired.