By Givens Mideva
Most of the firstborns I schooled with used to have tighter schedules than mine. While I would use the last 5 minutes of breaktime to get sunshine on my legs, they would be busy escorting their younger siblings to the toilet or their classrooms.
When our parents left home to win bread, our eldest siblings took over the role of brushing our shoes amongst other chores they loathed. They became our nannies, our cooks, our teachers. Our goals. Our best friends. Our parents.
Parents forget that firstborn children are children too. They battle anxieties and depression because of the inconsistencies and trauma of juggling between the roles of a parent and that of a child. They also become the hand that always gives and never dries. They are the first to panic when the family’s shit hits the fan and the first to be called during any emergency. In short, adult firstborns carry the most weight of their family’s baggage (in the typical modern toxic setting).
Firstborn adults deserve governmental pardon on their taxes. They should not be allowed to queue in any Tuskys or KCB branches. Their avocados should be imported directly from Mexico and their maternal/paternal leaves to be extended to a year for every child conceived. The government should get even more pissed off and introduce a Firstborns public holiday, whose celebration will last a week long.
You deserve that and even much more, you spesh wads of joy!