I thought that one of the benefits my children would receive growing up in a large family was that they would always have people who would support and protect them. I always thought that’s what having siblings was all about.
Boy was I wrong.
My kids would throw each other to the wolves if it meant protecting themselves.
Foremost, this comes up anytime they realize they are going to get in trouble for something. The fingers start pointing the minute I walk into a room, before I even have a chance to say a word. If one of them happens to not be there, you better believe that’s the one who’s going to get blamed. It’s much easier to pin things on someone who’s not there to defend their self.
The other day I had a pediatrician appointment for “The Baby.” CamCam is now old enough to understand that pediatrician appointments are not all fun and games. He knows about shots. He knows it hurts when they look in your ears. So on the way to the doctor's, he asked me who the appointment was for.
“Who doctar, ma? Who doctar?”
I told him it was for “The Baby”, and he was happy with that answer.
“Day-don doctar.” (Day-don is CamCam’s name for “The Baby”)
We get to the appointment, and, naturally, had to wait for a ridiculously long time. Finally it was our turn. I picked up “The Baby” and walked over to the nurse, but CamCam ran on ahead of me.
“Day-don doctar,” he says to the nurse. “Day-don’s turn, Day-don doctar. It’s Day-don. Day-don doctar. Day-don, Day-don. Not me, Day-don doctar.”
So much for my ideal of the supporting and protective older brother.
