Once upon a time in 1985 I walked early to church one morning with my mother and sister. We wore matching denim dresses even though we weren't twins. She always dressed us the same. Ever the example, my Mum stopped into the shop just across the road from the chapel and bought us both a Hubba Bubba bubble gum each.
We sat in the chapel. I ate one from my pack and sister ate three from her pack. We gave our packs of bubble gum to our Mum and then, as you do at the chapel as a child, had a race under the middle pews.
Can't remember who won, but what I do remember is when we got back to our Mum to retrieve our gum, my sister insisted the bigger pack belonged to her. I know it didn't for a few reasons.
1. I know I only had one piece.
2. The clump of gum in her mouth was huge because she was chewing three pieces.
I tried to point this out to my Mum, but my sister convinced her that the bigger pack was hers.
Scarred for life, I accepted defeat and silently held a grudge. Told myself every day since 1985 that my Mum does not love my sister more than me just because she gave her the bigger Hubba Bubba pack, but that she loves us equally.
Fast forward to a few weeks ago. We were sitting in the lounge at my Mums. Me, my sister and our Mum. As kids climbed over us and screamed the house down, I told them I had a bone to pick with them and relayed the above story.
My sister laughed about it and my Mum rolled her eyes.
This morning in the mail.
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