by Richard Hauser

I never liked being the eldest in the family. Things were tougher for me than for my siblings. It probably started before I was born. Parents have such high hopes of their first child. They noted how quickly I learned to sit, to crawl, to walk, to toilet-train, to speak, to read. They kept it in a book which they gave me when I grew up. They did not do this for the others, just for me.

I have a younger brother and sister. You’d think they would have taken some of the attention away from me. They did, but none of the expectations. It seemed to me that my siblings got all the affection and indulgence, while I was expected to rock the pram, play silly games, keep an eye on their antics, stop the fights, read them a story.

When my brother’s report card had ticks in the wrong boxes it didn’t get a mention. I had the high marks, but was urged to keep trying harder. When my sister was frightened of the dark she was allowed to crawl into our parents’ bed. When I was her age I’d never let on that I was scared because they kept telling me what a brave little man I was.

You can read the full story in the September 2011 edition, available from LCA Subscriptions. Full columns become available online three  years after publication date.