My sister has this rather peculiar trait. She sings the praises of her child as if hes the next William Shakespeare, and seems quite convinced everyone else should be as dazzled by his brilliance as she is. Naturally, the reality is a tad different.
Her boy is all of five years old. Look, Ive got nothing against the little chapof course we all love him; hes family, after all. But lifes quite stressful enough with my own brood to worry about.
My sister, however, goes on and on about how her son is an absolute marvel, one-of-a-kind. She insists we refer to him as angel, and since angels (according to her gospel) are incapable of wrongdoing, every one of his little offences must be instantly forgiven.
Or, well, thats what shes decided, much to everyones mild annoyance. To be honest, no one exactly leaps for joy when she brings him round. And popping over to hers is no jollier prospect. Still, fate (and bad decision-making, possibly) means we not only share blood but the same office, so sometimes there are things that have to be discussed.
Pop by, my sister said on the phone, Ill whip up your favourite omelette. Lets make it a lunch date.
She fancies herself a bit of a domestic goddesscant deny it, her omelette is a thing of legend.
Be there in a tick, I promised, and hung up.
After a short scavenger hunt for my car keys, I thought, might as well pick up a treat from the bakery on the way. Can’t do an English lunch without a proper cuppa, can we? Anyway, I arrived to see her feeding her son, motioning for me to join. So I did, and before I knew it, lunch began.
Eat up, she said, shoving a forlorn-looking plate of omelette towards me. Oliver didnt finish it.
That did it for me.
I say, dont you have any clean plates in this house? I asked, desperately trying to sound upbeat.
My Oliver is the cleanest child youll ever meet. His hands are always spotless, she retorted, just as the little cherub was mining his nose for gold.
That was enough. I gave a polite snort, gathered my dignity, and vowed never to accept a lunchtime invitation from my sister again.
What would you do if you were in my shoes?
