dou(fb)le standards.
Older siblings experience most things first. Whether that be a first word, a first step, a first laugh. This reciprocates for our parents as well. Our first diaper change was no doubt a foreign concept to them, yet after constant repetition, the practice became second nature by the birth of the next child. Parents learn the best response to age-old schoolyard problems, the most concise way to address teachers, and just how much shampoo will lather the hair yet not burn the eyes.
By the second time around, they've got it down.
But what about the first time they encountered a scratched elbow from a class bully, a machiavellian teacher, or their screaming child in the bathtub? Parenting is just as much a learning process as growing up. Hence arises the notion of double standards.
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As the three year elder to my younger brother, I had completed middle school by the time he walked in the 6th grade door. This means I had harassed my parents once daily for three years to allow me to join the social media movement of Facebook. Of course I kept in the social loop (best I could)....by my hearing of Facebook happenings from friends.
"The minimum age requirement is 13, Arianna," they would tell me. I argued that all of my friends easily bypassed this restriction by marking 1990 as their birthday (which is why I now get notifications reminding me to wish my high school friends a happy 25th birthday).
"You can make a Facebook account when you enter Highschool. End of conversation." Of course I didn't listen. Together, with a friend with an equally Stalin-like parent on the issue, we signed up for a joined account under a false name. Yet, living vicariously through "Annari Ortodis" (great name choice!) wasn't the same as having an individual account on Facebook.
The morning of freshman year I eagerly jumped out of bed, debatably more excited to make my Facebook account than to begin high school. Welcome, Arianna Sidoti, to Facebook!
....Two years later, my 7th grade brother posted on my wall. k.
By the second time around, they've got it down.
But what about the first time they encountered a scratched elbow from a class bully, a machiavellian teacher, or their screaming child in the bathtub? Parenting is just as much a learning process as growing up. Hence arises the notion of double standards.
.................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
As the three year elder to my younger brother, I had completed middle school by the time he walked in the 6th grade door. This means I had harassed my parents once daily for three years to allow me to join the social media movement of Facebook. Of course I kept in the social loop (best I could)....by my hearing of Facebook happenings from friends.
"The minimum age requirement is 13, Arianna," they would tell me. I argued that all of my friends easily bypassed this restriction by marking 1990 as their birthday (which is why I now get notifications reminding me to wish my high school friends a happy 25th birthday).
"You can make a Facebook account when you enter Highschool. End of conversation." Of course I didn't listen. Together, with a friend with an equally Stalin-like parent on the issue, we signed up for a joined account under a false name. Yet, living vicariously through "Annari Ortodis" (great name choice!) wasn't the same as having an individual account on Facebook.
The morning of freshman year I eagerly jumped out of bed, debatably more excited to make my Facebook account than to begin high school. Welcome, Arianna Sidoti, to Facebook!
....Two years later, my 7th grade brother posted on my wall. k.