William Martin "Your Stories"
Name
William Martin
Email
[email protected]
Your story
One of the first things that amazed me as a parent of two daughters was how different siblings can be. You'd think that since they both came from the same parents they'd be relatively the same.
Not so. At all.
With our oldest, when she was younger, all I had to do if she did something wrong was give her a slight look of disappointment and she'd cave in. She'd fall to her knees and swear never to disappoint me again if I'd just please, please, please love her again.
Mind you, I never said a word. Just gave her "the look."
My younger daughter was the complete opposite. I'd give her "the look" and she'd just look back, blank-faced as if to say, "Okay, so what's your problem?"
Since I didn't get a reaction, I amped it up a bit and told her I was disappointed in her.
I got the same blank look.
I amped it up some more by raising my voice.
No reaction.
I thought, "Wow, I'm really not getting through to her," so I amped it up a bit more and added a word or two of profanity.
That's when she continued to look at me, stone faced, as her eyes filled and spilled over and down her cheeks.
That's Brenna. She holds it in. Of course, I felt like the world's greatest ass and about two inches tall. Seriously, I could have played handball on the curb.
She's nothing like her older sister Sam, but I love them both. At 21 and 23 they're still best friends --a closeness I never really had with my own siblings.
Somehow, despite my obtuseness, they turned out to amazing young ladies.
I credit their mom.
But they still have a warped sense of humor and a wicked wit.
And I'm more than happy to take credit for that.
William Martin
[email protected]
Your story
One of the first things that amazed me as a parent of two daughters was how different siblings can be. You'd think that since they both came from the same parents they'd be relatively the same.
Not so. At all.
With our oldest, when she was younger, all I had to do if she did something wrong was give her a slight look of disappointment and she'd cave in. She'd fall to her knees and swear never to disappoint me again if I'd just please, please, please love her again.
Mind you, I never said a word. Just gave her "the look."
My younger daughter was the complete opposite. I'd give her "the look" and she'd just look back, blank-faced as if to say, "Okay, so what's your problem?"
Since I didn't get a reaction, I amped it up a bit and told her I was disappointed in her.
I got the same blank look.
I amped it up some more by raising my voice.
No reaction.
I thought, "Wow, I'm really not getting through to her," so I amped it up a bit more and added a word or two of profanity.
That's when she continued to look at me, stone faced, as her eyes filled and spilled over and down her cheeks.
That's Brenna. She holds it in. Of course, I felt like the world's greatest ass and about two inches tall. Seriously, I could have played handball on the curb.
She's nothing like her older sister Sam, but I love them both. At 21 and 23 they're still best friends --a closeness I never really had with my own siblings.
Somehow, despite my obtuseness, they turned out to amazing young ladies.
I credit their mom.
But they still have a warped sense of humor and a wicked wit.
And I'm more than happy to take credit for that.