Child rearing
I was all of ten years old when my baby sister Fina was born. A year or so later, mom went back to work. Babysitters are quite expensive, so she had the bright idea to have me spend my Summer vacation taking care of Fina instead of hanging around with the neighborhood kids lighting things on fire like usual.

My promised reward was, at Summer's end, I'd get a printer and some disk drives for my prized TRS-80 computer. This was of course back when crappy 1980s PCs and their peripherals were fuckoff expensive, and it was an orgasmic prospect for a young nerd like me.

Roll on three months of feeding, changing, and basically parenting, with only a fledgling collection of videotapes and books to break up the monotony while my friends were enjoying the full spectrum of childhood pyromania, graffiti, trespassing, and other assorted misdemeanors. I had swapped an ntire Summer's worth of adventures and freedom for diapers and formula. Still, I was confident it'd all be worth it in the end..

Did I get all that computer stuff when it was all over? Did I indeed receive any recompense at all for sacrifice of an entire Summer?

Did I fuck. We were far too poor to afford that sort of thing, a fact that Mom only admitted to me come Autumn.

Nevertheless, I fell for it all again the following year, when the promised reward package had a Nintendo added to it.

Did I finally get anything for my extended troubles and sacrifices over two adolescent Summers?

Did I fuck.

No apologies for length, girth, texture, or odor. Also, I do love my now grown-up sister dearly, partly because she feeds and cleans her own damn self these days.
( Rob T Firefly talked, like, William Shatner, on, Sat 18 Feb 2006, 15:53, Reply)