And I am still the parent here, strangely enough.

My brother’s drinking has been getting worse and worse, and my parents have been, for the most part, ignoring it. When he drinks, he has the tendency to completely forget that some things just don’t belong to him. Food, for example. This past Saturday, my mother bought Ally and me a package of 20 sausage bicuits for breakfast during the week. We have to get up early most mornings, whether to get Ally to her 8 am class or to do something else, and it’s always difficult to find something quick and easy to eat before we leave the house, so this was a great idea. Saturday night, my brother got really drunk and ate 16 of them. 16 OF THEM IN ONE NIGHT.

I noticed Sunday morning and spoke to my mother about it in hopes that she’d say something to him. All she said was, “Oh yeah, I noticed that.” Of course. So I took it in hand to confront him and told him that he’d better think twice if he thought I was going to accept his being drunk as an excuse for taking what isn’t his. He said he wouldn’t, and I left it at that.

It might seem like I’m making mountains out of mole hills about this, but it’s the principal of thing. He always does things like this and treats everyone else like they don’t matter with the excuse of, “but I was drunk!” My parents never do anything beyond wagging their fingers at him and lecturing him. They should know from experience that that never works.

My brother was drunk again last night, and when Ally and I woke up, the four biscuits that were left had been eaten. So, needless to say, Ally went to class without breakfast and I had to actually go out and buy myself breakfast. But I didn’t let it go this time. Before my dad left this morning, I told him that I was sick of them turning a blind eye to George’s drinking and how it effects everyone else in the house and that they were to do something about it. I explained that lecturing him, either of us really, has never worked for ANYTHING in the past. George takes it that if all he’s going to get is a stern talking-to, then why should he care? Basically, I told my father to actually be George’s father for once before I smother my brother in his sleep. Well, something to that effect, anyway.

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