Thirty years ago things were very different for me: I was a cute little six year old with blond hair and blue eyes, an annoying younger brother and a mum who made birthday cakes in the shape of fire-engines. Life simply does not get better than that.
And then, after a night away from home, we awoke to the news that we had a younger brother, and were taken to Leicester Royal Infirmary to meet the little bundle of joy.
The six year old me was not at all happy. Firstly, because she had very specifically asked for an older brother. Secondly, her parents had the temerity to name it Daniel (their favoured name for boys that couldn’t be used last time round due to a surplus of Daniels being born at the time.) The Mothership held onto the name for six long years whilst they tried and tried for another baby. And then, 24 hours after “Daniel’s” arrival, she bowed to the whims of her precocious six-year-old daughter and gave up the name Daniel in favour of Adam. As requested by the little girl unhappy about the arrival of the ‘wrong’ brother.
Yes, I’d have called them indulgent too. But I didn’t because I didn’t know what the word meant. But I enjoyed my new plaything very much.
Fast forward thirty years and Brother Adam is mere days away from a significant birthday- it shouldn’t take much for you to deduce which one. He is much taller than he was that day in May 1983. Although he has about the same amount of hair. And he does appear to be fulfilling the role of ‘plaything’ very well these days for his nieces- my children.
They are little with blond hair and blue eyes. They have an annoying dog and a mum that makes birthday cakes in the shape of butterflies and Barbies. They have a very indulgent father. Life simply does not get better than that.
I, on the other hand, haven’t aged as well: I am less blonde, I have green eyes, and my mum refuses to make me cakes any more. Apparently I am “too old”. I get to be bossed around by two precocious little girls and never seem to have a moment to myself. I think The Mothership would call that “Karma”. But she can’t say it out loud because as fast as I am turning into my mother, she is turning into hers!
But whilst The Girls are at school and Brother Adam is at work, whilst The Mothership has the temerity to be in America visiting her other grandchildren leaving me alone and babysitter-less, I shall munch on my bowl of My Special K undisturbed. I shall enjoy the new recipe wholegrain flakes- three to be exact: wheat, rice and barley. I shall feel smug in the knowledge that the British-made cereal is a source of fibre and contains 8 vitamins and iron.
And I shall try and imagine what it must feel like to be as timeless, as ageless, as Special K.
This is an entry for the BritMums/Special K “How I’ve changed Linky challenge”. I was sent a packet of the new Special K for the purposes of writing this post.