If It Weren't Impossible, I Would Have a Sibling

If it weren’t impossible, I would have a sibling. I am an only child. Okay, so technically I’m not a child anymore. Once upon a time a long time ago, I was an only child so I wonder, what am I now? An only adult?

Forget it...the point is I’ve always wanted a brother or a sister. Don’t misunderstand me. Only-childhood has its perks. I never had to share a bedroom, share clothes, or wait in line to use the bathroom. No siblings meant no sibling rivalry, which meant never having to compete for my parents’ attention. 

One or both of my parents was always available to quiz me for tests, listen to me perform Carnival of Venice on the flute, or to play charades, huckle-buckle-beanstalk or some other game we kids played when boredom gripped us in long-ago days before cable television. Like it or not, I alone was the center of my parents' universe and my cousins, all of whom had multiple siblings, took every opportunity to point out how good I had it. 

Most people equate only child with insolent-temper-tantrum-throwing-spoiled-brat (hereon referred to as ITTTSB). I can tell you with confidence that this stereotype is way off the mark. I know this because, whenever I reveal my only child status to someone, it is met with astonishment.

“So, Ant, how many brothers and sisters do you have?” 

“None. I’m an only child.”

Gasp. “Really? Wow. I never would have guessed that. Aren't you Italian?’’

People never take me for an only child because 1) I am Italian-American (reference Carnival of Venice and "cousins with multiple siblings" above, and 2) I am not, nor have I ever been, an ITTTSB. If I had to guess, I’d say there are fewer occurrences per capita of ITTTSBs among only children than there are among people with siblings. While I have no empirical data to support my claim, I do have loads of personal experience.

First of all, only childhoods are lonely childhoods. We are forced to hang around adults because parents of only children tend to take them everywhere they go. As poised as we may appear to grown-ups, kids our own age find us socially awkward and inept at age-appropriate interaction, which makes it difficult to make friends. Consequently, we go to extremes to accommodate the needs of others, and freely share out possessions as well as our time.

We tend to allow others to exploit our kindness and good nature in the name of friendship. Hardly the behavior you would expect from an ITTTSB. 

Loneliness and social awkwardness aside, if it weren’t impossible, I would have a sibling because all that parental attention is a creativity-thwarting nuisance. Say, for example, the pristine white canvas of your freshly painted closet walls prove too much for you to resist and you spontaneously draw all over it with brand new colored chalk. You immediately regret it, and in an anxious effort to keep anyone from discovering you are a closet graffiti artist, you quickly re-hang all of the clothes that were removed so your dad could put a fresh coat of paint on the walls in the first place.

"Antoinette, did you draw on your closet walls with chalk?"

"I don't know, Ma."

"Really? I didn’t do it. So you're saying Daddy sat in your closet and drew all over the walls after he went to the trouble of re-painting it?"

 "Maybe?”

Or what if you were to fail to control an impulse to, I don't know perhaps, carve a large calligraphy style capital letter A into the wall over your parents' bed? I'm not saying it happened, but if it did and your mother noticed it, being an only child might not necessarily be such a good thing.

"Antoinette, who carved the letter A into the wall above my bed?"

"Somebody whose name starts with A maybe? Do you think daddy did it?"

My parents’ names are Albert and Ada, so it’s plausible that any one of the three of us could have done it. Right? Do you see where I’m headed with this? Escaping the consequences of your actions is difficult enough when you're a kid. When you’re an only child, you haven’t got a chance in hell of eluding your parents’ wrath.

There is no innocent, unsuspecting sibling on whom to pin the blame and unless your infractions include stealing food from the garbage or gnawing on a perfectly good pair of shoes, castigating the dog is not an option. I suppose one might argue that being an only child under circumstances like these is a good thing. You learn, at a very young age, to take responsibility for your actions. You learn it's always best to tell the truth and bear the consequences of your mistakes.

One might argue that is a good thing, but not me. No sir-ee. If it weren’t impossible I’d have had a sibling to blame along the way.