Unhappy Together

A little about this movie before we get started:

I am an only child.

Some days I am happy about this. Others, it gets lonely.

This is a story where I’m happy about it.

I do not understand the sibling relationship. It is alien to me. They fight. They love. They fight again. Then they fight some more. They’re sorry. Please don’t tell on me. I said I was sorry. Stop hitting me. Stop biting me. I’m gonna tell. You’re in trouble. I’m so sorry this time. Bark like a dog.

Often times I leave the room wondering if I’ve just witnessed an episode of Divorce Court. I must be Judge Wopner.

So when the girls want to get together and play, it’s monumental and involves lots of moving parts. Who’s going to be the boss? Who narrates the imaginary story? What toys will be played with? Who gets to play The Red Queen because you always get to be The Red Queen and I want to say OFF WITH HER HEAD this time. It’s like bargaining for property in a divorce settlement and no one wants the dog but everyone wants the seaside mansion.

The thing about having such opposite of personalities, in females no less, is the fun usually ends way before it begins. A game may start, a joining of minds on the best way to collectively annoy the parental units – usually involving a toy that makes lots and lots and LOTS of noise – and before long, there are hurt feelings. This is how I can only imagine the U.N. feels when Ahmadinejad comes to New York for a visit of “peace talks”.

There is a piano that’s been in my family generations. It is old, worn, and in need of some restoration love. Add a guitar from BFam’s sister, one she mysteriously inherited after moving out of her college dorm, and a makeshift band has begun in my living room.

Oh yay.

Alas, I can rest easy. This bond? This show of friendly compilation? A ruse. A short-lived one at that. Yet and still, the annoyance is not lost on me. (Please excuse the video quality. I have not confidently learned the inner-workings of my D90′s video function.)