When I was younger, I was terrified of my older sister.
Why? Older siblings are abusive. They’re manipulative. They push their younger siblings around to get what they want.
My sister has a history of making me do menial tasks for her:
The idea of middle school, apparently, was enough to make me climb the stairs to retrieve her toothbrush. Secondary school, after all, is a frightening and mysterious thing.
Alternatively, she liked to cheat me out of things. Once it was chump change:
Although more classically it was Halloween candy.
There was one tactic she liked using the most. Like any little kid, I was attached to my stuffed animals. I was particularly fond of one plush dog I owned. And my sister, of course, abused this to the maximum:
In all fairness, my sister had to put up with her share of abuse as well. I would hit her. Throw things at her. Bother her incessantly. My poor ol’ sister had to put up with quite a lot. While she could take advantage of her seniority, I could take advantage of my youth:
It was classic sibling strife. Much of it declined as we got older, anyway. And my sister is the greatest. She’s put up with me for 18 years. She gives me advice. Lets me complain to her. Tells me how to not dress like a total scrub. I wouldn’t trade her for any other sister in the WORLD!…and so on. After all, who else can I rely on to dance the Irish jig with me?