When I was a kid we had a recliner in the den. It was Dad's Chair. When he wasn't home or in need of sitting, it became The Chair Everyone Wants. By everyone, I mean me and my sisters. As the oldest, the biggest and the one to most willing to inflict bodily harm, I generally won the fights to become Queen of the Chair. I also had elaborate schemes to get my sisters to do things for me while I was in the chair. I would trick them into fetching me books or snacks or the remote so that I didn't have to get up for even a second and relinquish my hold on the Chair. There was even one afternoon reign that ended in the ER (it was only a sprain - no fingers were actually broken). It was good to be the oldest.
I don't know how I didn't drive my poor mother to drink. For those of you who don't believe in karma, you are a fool. My oldest daughter was brought to me for a special purpose - the world will be a better place for having her in it, she is intelligent, thoughtful and beautiful - except when she is fulfilling her karmic duty to drive me mad. I just have to remind myself that I deserve it, I deserve all the "you're on MY side of the couch don't touch me" fights, all the "nah nah na-nah nah you can't have it" fights, all the moody storms that brew at the worst moments. I deserve it all.
My one solace - someday that poor, wonderful girl is going to deserve it, too.
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