Annoying Little Brothers

I often feel sorry for Holly. With three little brothers she is forever rescuing her things from their grubby little clutches for there is no greater joy in my sons lives than being in Holly’s room and in possession of her stuff. The problem being their inability to do so without breaking something.

Because I grew up with brothers I totally understand how much she hates it so there’s none of this “share your toys” when it comes to Holly’s things as it simply isn’t fair. Seeing the disappointment on her face when they break the toys she looks after so well is too upsetting.

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This is my childhood teddy bear, her name is Amanda. My Grandma gave her to me when I was about seven and I absolutely loved her. In fact, she still lives on my bedside table. Much to Rob’s delight.

Once upon a time she used to have a pretty white apron and bonnet and had little shoes, socks and a frilly hat. Enter little bastard brother and there began Amanda’s lifelong battle for survival.

He knew that the grand prize in sibling warfare was getting his paws on Amanda and there was no victory as grand as pilfering her of her robes. Alas she remained bereft of any of those lovely accessories for all but about a month of her life.

Now in fairness to my brother, I was a total cow of a big sister and without doubt would have retaliated with an equally heinous act of revenge but nevertheless Amanda was the innocent party and did not deserve to be dismembered as often as she was and she still has the scars to prove it.


She was regularly beheaded by Darth Vader and an army of GI-Joes, as was my beloved Barbie doll whose hair was cut off at the scalp and found a few days later in my grandma’s sugar bowl.

The end of the Great War ended when we went on holidays to the country and when I was out horse riding, my brother kidnapped Amanda and threw her on top of a wardrobe before we left and didn’t tell anyone, the next few weeks were spent frantically searching for her until my parents somehow managed to extract information of her whereabouts from him and contacted the hotel who had to post her back.

I can’t remember what my brother’s punishment was but it must have been bad because he lost interest in torturing Amanda after that and he never went near her again.

Or maybe he just got sick of cutting heads off.


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