There was once 2 girls so sweet,
Born close, so they could meet.
Held hands when they were small,
Helped each other draw on the wall.
Their smiles would beam as one,
Every day, they’d have such fun.
Together, side by side.
United, on life’s ride.
Then they turned 6 and 7,
Hell is now what once was heaven.
Suddenly they’ve learnt to fight
And each one is always right.
“She took my brush” said girl 2
So what? mum thought, we’ve got a few
“And my band, the one that’s black”
Forget mum just got a 50 pack?
Girl 1 – “that hairband is MINE”
“Hands off you dirty swine”
And I’m sitting here all stiff
50 black, they know the diff?
Then it’s on for old and young,
I feel last rites need to be sung
Screaming, yelling, crying
What’s that? A clump of hair went flying.
This is no surprise from girl 2,
She’s tough as nails, that I knew
But girl 1, she’s a player.
And it appears, quite a stayer.
She screams and shouts so loud,
Mum’s feeling pretty proud.
I sit down and take a seat.
Just who will hairband defeat?
Ten minutes in a scrum,
No interference from their mum.
Girl 1 comes up with the band,
Clenched tightly in her hand.
Off she trots to do her hair
Girl 2 in tears, as I stare
“It was MINE” girl 2 squeals
I know exactly how she feels
“There’s 49 more in this joint”
“So what” she says, “That’s NOT the point!”
“Then what is?” I ask with dread,
“That one was for MY head!”
Moral to the story, so I’ve learnt,
Position in a family is born, not earnt.
Girl 2, take a seat
Your sis will always have you beat.