Birth Order (in House Hamilton at least):
First born: does what I say at all times, in all ways. Routinely exceeds expectations. Receives little to no praise for doing so.
Second born: pretends he doesn’t hear what I say. When he cannot plausibly do this, stays silent and passively seems like he will do what I say, then does not. When called on this bullshit, complies . . . minimally. Receives threats, glares, or exasperated sighs for doing so.
Third born: will sometimes do what I say, if I make it sound fun, or rollerblades can be worn, or treats and/or puppets are involved. Receives disproportionate praise for doing so.
Fourth born: will argue passionately that what I say is unjust, or stupid, or “the worst”. Leverages his encyclopedic knowledge of everything I’ve ever said to accurately argue that what I am currently saying is inconsistent with some previous thing I said or did. Combines shrewd logic with inconvenient facts and emotional intensity to brew an exhausting and poisonous cocktail on which I choke. Receives the full attention of a weary but intensely engaged parent for doing so.