Heated (sibling) rivalry

A very Seventies tale.

An audio version is here for paying subscribers.

You’re probably sick of hearing this, but it’s Sibling Day this week. WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’VE NEVER EVEN HEARD OF IT? It’s thirty-one years old. I’m not sure why there is a National Sibling Day, as I don’t think we need to raise awareness of siblings. It’s not like someone has had one child and then found out on April 10th that there was an option to have another. “A what? A sibling? Well, I’d never heard of that. Let’s get to work.”

I think the existence of this day only registered with me as my son will probably be an only child. I say probably, not because I’ll be having any more, but there’s always a chance that my partner will leave me for someone younger/nicer/more tolerant of him leaving trails of spilt tea on the floor behind him, and then have more children.

When my son ever complains about his lack of siblings, I tell him that brothers and sisters are really overrated until around your twenties and that’s ages away, which seems to placate him.

Although in childhood my sister did me one favour. She made me impervious to tickling by tying me to the bed and tickling me until I couldn’t feel it anymore. Something which I think she learned from her time in the Stasi.

But it’s really great now when people try to tickle me and get nothing. Admittedly, I can’t remember the last time anyone tried to tickle me; I just don’t move in those kinds of circles. But maybe one day, when I’m finally recruited by M15 and get captured and tortured by tickling, this will prove invaluable.

But here’s the story that I will bring out if I really need to back up my conviction that my son is better off alone.

My family had gone to Scotland and we spent one night in a hotel. I was four and my sister was five.

That night, my parents went out and left my sister and me in the room. I know this sounds like a less extreme version of when you hear about a woman who goes on holiday to Tenerife and leaves her 8-year-old home alone to fend for herself and gets arrested on her return. But don’t worry, there was a baby monitor, and they left the receiver half with the hotel receptionists so they could keep an ear on us.

When my parents returned from their night out, they found the receptionists couldn’t wait to tell them what had happened and could barely get it out from laughing. They’d overheard the following exchange between my sister and me.

My sister: Annabel, do you love Mummy?

Me: Yes.

My sister: Do you love Daddy?

Me: Yes

My sister: Well, they don’t love you!

And then I burst into tears.

I’d like to pick this apart for a moment. First of all, the way she set that up, as a five-year-old, is just incredible. She set up that killer blow so beautifully. Any other five-year-old would’ve just gone, “Annabel.. Mummy and Daddy don’t love you.” This doesn’t have anywhere near as much power. Her version was masterful.

I’d also like to question why the receptionists were laughing so much. I was a four-year-old in a strange hotel room with my quite possibly psychopathic sister. Learning for the first time that the two people I loved most in the world didn’t love me. And they’re laughing.

I should also probably question why my parents left us with some strangers and a baby monitor to get all Cain and Abel. But you know, the Seventies. Different times.

And my concern is that National Siblings Day is just going to encourage more of this, once more parents find out about siblings. Forget I ever mentioned it.