Margit's Note
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Margit’s Note: The Language of Siblings

There we are: a trio of Detweiler kids, rolling around in the back of a Ford Country Squire, seatbelt-free, chanting nonsense-filled songs we’d make up on the fly: “Apple tree, apple pee!” Potty talk makes everything better.

We pinch, kick, cry shriek with laughter until one exasperated parent yells, “Stop your blather.” Which makes us laugh even harder.

BLATHER?? We repeat in a fancy pants voice,  “BLAAAATHER?”

Stifling our hysterics is impossible. Hopefully this doesn’t result in the car being stopped. Because after all, I’m the oldest, and the one perennially, “in charge.”


I read somewhere that when you have one cat, the cat bonds with its owner, but with two cats, the cats bond with each other —the impact siblings have is something like that.  My sister, brother and I speak a language we share with no one else — words and memories to make us gasp with laughter, innocuous-seeming phrases that will turn us red with anger.  No one else can get under your skin quite like a sibling.

One of 1,000 examples: I used to joke that my sister had a vague, imaginary “problem” that I couldn’t discuss. When friends would come over, I would just refer to her “problem.” “Have you dealt with your problem?” And, of course, she would blow a gasket and slug me with whatever was close at hand. The many things we’ve thrown at each other: Clogs, birdcages, Diet Cokes (“It slipped.”)

But so much love — undeniable, devoted love that will last until our last breath.

Even though they’re now adults with two kids apiece, and big, important jobs, they’ll always my best buds in the backseat, blathering up a storm.

This week we look at sibling rivalry and reverence — some so different from us we question our relationship; others who may not be blood relatives but are our siblings just the same.

I’m telling Mom,



Margit in the middle. (Photo courtesy the author/ TueNight)

(Photo credit:


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