My husband, my brother-in-law, a few of their friends, and I decide to go a concert at the Amphitheater. The tickets to see three bands on the lawn are like $25 each with free parking. It starts at 6:30 pm, and my brother-in-law decides to show up late since he doesn’t like the first band. 

My husband and I decide to get there on time and get food beforehand; while we don’t care about the first band, either, we can park and take our time. They don’t end up coming on until 7:00 pm, and they play for roughly forty-five minutes. Then, there is another forty-five-minute break for set up for the second band.

Halfway through the break, my husband texts his brother to see where he is. He replies that he is just leaving. To only his surprise, he hits Phoenix rush hour traffic and doesn’t end up making it until halfway into the hour-long second set. I assume all is fine.

Afterward, he starts b****ing about how bad traffic was and how the parking attendants didn’t seem to know what they were doing and there wasn’t enough parking, so he had to park in the back. Whatever. It is a problem of his own making, so I roll my eyes and ignore him.

My gracious husband points out that at least he saw two really good bands. Oh, no! That sets him off on another tangent about how bad the sound quality is and how the main band kept messing up. (The singer just had throat surgery and couldn’t scream at a couple of parts but was otherwise really good, all things considered. The only complaint I had was them figuring out his mic level for the first couple of songs.) 

He then whines about how the drinks were “as much as the tickets”. (They were $12-19 and appropriately priced for the amount of liquor in them — really, prices you would expect at a restaurant.) The kicker is that he is supposed to be the designated driver among his friends, so why he cares about what the drinks cost, I will never know. He whines about how crowded it was. He whines about literally everything. You would think the band killed his entire family and s*** on their corpses with the way he is complaining.

Eventually, my husband and I just leave in mid-tantrum. I am not even sure he notices.

To this day, I am convinced he is still in that parking lot b****ing.

My brother-in-law has stereotypical youngest child syndrome and, as such, thinks everyone else should pay for his necessities so he can spend his money on “fun” things. It does not matter that he makes more than either of his siblings or parents by a few ten thousand; he should be pampered. 

We invite both of my husband’s siblings to go out of town with us to my family’s cabin. The only catch is that they have to drive themselves. As the pretty, pretty princess, this means he will passengerize while she drives the three-hour trek. 

He also currently needs a root canal, which leads to this exchange. 

Husband: “[Brother-in-Law] wants to know if we will be paying for gas for them to get up there since we are having them drive themselves.”

Me: *Suspicious* “So, he wants to split the bills, then? I can figure out how much all the food is going to cost since our cars get the same gas mileage and we are technically traveling farther. There are no housing costs since it is well water and solar.”

Husband: “Uhhh… Well, he was hoping we would pay for their gas…”

Me: “Fair enough. [Sister] makes minimum wage and has to take time off for this so we can pay for her gas. I will Cash App her.”

Husband: “He wants it to go to him.”

Me: *Raises eyebrow* “Does she owe him money or something?”

My husband shrugs.

Me: “How about we give her cash, and she can give it to him if she wants?”

Husband: “Why?”

Me: “Because when we went to [City], we paid for everything but one breakfast, and afterward he said we should figure out ‘who owes who what’ like he didn’t owe us hundreds of dollars and then insisted on calling it even when I presented the bill.”

Husband: “…”

Me: “Because he convinced you that you owed him $500 for your dad’s Christmas gift — which was two times the cost of the actual gift.”

Husband: “…”

Me: “Because your brother currently needs a root canal, and somehow, gas money will be a couple hundred as a result.”

Husband: *Pauses* “I will talk directly to [Sister] about if she wants us to pay her gas money.”

The absolute nerve of that little rat.

My brother-in-law has decided that he wants takeaway food for dinner, so he sends me down to the local shops. For the record, he’s in his fifties, never left home, and was babied by his late mother.  

Me: “Can you write down what you want so I don’t forget anything?”

Brother-In-Law: “Just get fish and chips.”

Me: “Okay, so nothing else?”

Brother-In-Law: “No, just fish and chips.”

I order just that and am served battered fish and chips wrapped in a butcher paper parcel as is normally done. When [Brother-In-Law] unwraps the meal, he looks at it in disgust.

Brother-In-Law: “There’s fish in here. I don’t like fish.”

Me: “You asked for fish. Why would you ask for it if you don’t like it?”

Brother-In-Law: “Mum always got me chicken when she bought fish and chips; that’s why I wanted fish and chips.”

Me: “How was I to know that? I asked you to clarify what you wanted.”

Brother-In-Law: “I told you I wanted fish and chips; it’s what I call it.”

I can’t get through to him that “fish and chips” doesn’t mean chicken and chips. The fish was delicious, by the way.

A few weeks later, he brings home some takeaway food.

Brother-In-Law: “[My Name], I bought some fish and chips if you want some.”

Me: “Is there actually any fish?”

Brother-In-Law: “No, it’s chicken.”

Me: “Then why the h*** don’t you call it ‘chicken and chips’?”

Brother-In-Law: “It’s what I call it.”

Me: “So, you ordered fish and chips, and they gave you chicken and chips.”

[Brother-In-Law] looks at me as if I have sprouted two heads.

Brother-In-Law: “Of course not. I asked for chicken and chips. Why would I ask for fish when I don’t like it?”

Toddlers have more maturity than my twenty-seven-year-old brother-in-law. It doesn’t help that he has the case of youngest child syndrome and thinks everything should be handed to him.

My husband and I are walking the dog Saturday evening.

Me: “I noticed [Friend #1] was online last night. Did you end up playing [Co-op Game #1] all night?”

Husband: “[Friend #2] also showed up. It seemed like both of them already had plans to play [Co-op Game #2], and I was really down for that.”

Me: “Sounds like a lot of fun.”

Husband: “I was really excited for it, and then [Brother-In-Law] jumped in and said he wanted to play [Co-op Game #3], instead. Apparently, he had a really bad experience where [Friend #2] beat him really badly at [Game #2], so he has a lot of ‘trauma’ associated with it.”

Me: “So, basically, he threw a fit because he lost to his friend.”

Husband: “Yeah, pretty much.”

Me: “Well, what did he play instead while you played [Game #2]?”

Husband: “I ended up not playing with them because he would’ve gotten pouty.”

Me: “So, you gave into his tantrum.”

Husband: “He would’ve ruined the night by sulking.”

Me: “Sounds like he already did.”

Husband: “Yeah… I guess.”

Me: “How about next time we just let him throw his man-trum and stop giving into his hissy fits?”

Husband: “I know…”

When I relayed it to a friend, she scoffed at my husband’s “big little brother”. And I have to say, that is exactly what he is: a giant baby.

My sister-in-law was pregnant, and the prognosis was that she was having a girl. So, everything was pink, pink, pink. My dad got annoyed with me when I bought gender-neutral days-of-the-week onesies rather than something pink for the baby shower.

Guess what my nephew wore for the first week of his life while everything else was returned?

The lesson was not learned when it came time for my baby shower. We got pink everything. Since mine was from a DNA scan rather than an ultrasound, it was accurate, but still…

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