I was perfect. I never understood the meaning of discipline, punish, ignore, hate or scold. I was the only child, so perfect, so great, until you came.

You were the apple in our parent's eyes; just so pure, so innocent. Mom and Dad's attention for me faded, and I resorted to screaming.

"S hush , Jane," came the usual reply. Why were they ignoring me? "the baby's sleeping." was usually the answer.

Five years later. Tommy was basking in the attention, all his 'masterpieces' carpeted the house, with my art just worthy of a small drawer hidden away in the storeroom. "Huh. That big shot."

 Another five years, and now Tommy was 10. I was 20, and I've a boyfriend. I walked into the house gingerly, and my parents were on the sofa, giving me the evil eye. "Break up with John now or I shall disown you!" my mother demanded. "You've already disowned me since Tommy emerged from your womb." I replied.

I am 40 now, with three lovely children and a caring husband. Why should I care about the past?