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I may have mentioned in the past, or if not then maybe just intimated, that my daughter is very advanced for her years. This has taken a rather interesting turn lately, as she has now gone from just helping my son (who is her senior by three years) put his shoes on, to actively telling him off if he fails to do it in a timely fashion.

 

Yes, my son now has two mothers to look after him.

 

But mainly to tell him off.

 

I feel bad for him sometimes. Case in point, yesterday he was sat happily playing on his WiiU, but we were due to go to church and so had asked him to stop playing and get dressed. Like any nearly-six-year-old boy does, he promptly ignored us the first 8 times of asking.This led to his sister taking matters into her own hands by heading over to him, and attempting to wrestle the Gamepad out of his hands. There then followed some ‘light’ biting and lots of tears.

 

We did manage to get to church on time though.

 

She’s not just physical with him though, she gets very verbal too and, as she’s by far the loudest thing in the house (even beating my surround-sound system by about 25 Watts) this means you’re never more than ten minutes away from ear-piercing shrieks. The house regularly reverberates to cries of ‘Put your shoes on’ ‘Stop it!’ ‘Get dressed’ and, current unfortunate favourite: ‘Put your willy away!’.

 

He doesn’t seem to mind too much though – except for when he is occupied with video games of course – he even tries to turn it to his advantage. When he’s finished with his plate of toast, Babybel and his hot-chocolate drink (breakfast staples in our house) he casually gives the detritus to his sister to clear away. There’s a fine line between parenting – or surrogate parenting – and serfdom, and my son crosses it with a smile on his face, while he exploits his sister.

 

It seems to work quite well for them though, they are thick as thieves and love each other to bits. I don’t want him to get too complacent with his double-helping of mothers though, I bumped into a local lady in the village, a grandma who, as we were talking about our kids, turned out to have a son just like mine: looked after by mother AND sister. ‘He’s useless’ she hissed at me, bitterness evident in her tone ‘He’s a fat idle thing who just sits around all day, waited on hand and foot’.

 

So I guess what’s cute and funny now, may need addressing at some point in the future. After all, I don’t want a double-dose of mothers to eventually lead to a double-dose of chins on my son’s lovely face…

 

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