the third parent

If you have an older sibling, chances are pretty good you understand what I mean when I use the phrase "the third parent."
In our family, the third parent was my oldest brother, Brian. Brian traditionally has thought nothing of issuing directives to us, or of translating a parental request into a command.

I believe when we were kids he tried to be the heavy and make us do our chores (in all fairness they were ours to do, not his) when our parents were out. About six years ago, for example, we were both visiting our parents, and our mother asked him to get me up. Brian comes up the stairs, opens the door to my bedroom, and with the light of divine revelation setting his face aglow, commanded me: "Dave, up!"

I never did like that.

So tonight, Rachel was trying to play with something that Evangeline also was trying to play with. After a while, I guess it started to get on Evangeline's nerves and she said, "Rachel, you're in time out."

I thought I contained myself pretty well. I didn't spank Evangeline. I didn't growl at her or give her a lecture at the top of my lungs. I scooped her up, told her never to presume to punish Rachel again, and said it was time for bed.

Natasha pointed out to me that Evangeline isn't Brian and just because I had problems with him doing that doesn't mean I have to take them out on Evangeline.

*sigh*

Our story is a generational one, isn't it?

I'm sure there are times when an older sibling really does valid input or advice that younger siblings can benefit from. I've had some for my youngest brother, Herb, that he's taken, and I've received from Brian and from Herb, brother number two. (I'm number three if anyone's trying to keep count.)

There's a difference between giving advice and trying to run another person's life, and between passing on instructions from mom and dad and just being a bossy jerk. In the latter choice of each of those pairs, the older sibling generally would do everybody a favor by sitting down and shutting up.