Growing up was crazy .
Was born in the late nineties was the sixth child and also the fourth boy in wat would later turn out to be a family of seven, thinking of it now i really dont think that my birth brought much happiness like that of a new baby should have ,i guess my parents were used to babies, growing up i wanted attention,i wanted my mum to see me run or jump or applaud me bt none was forth coming and dad was always on the road and den d possible worst dat could happen to me at that moment occurred.....yea u guessed right , my little sis was born ,the last born of the family ,the little angel, as far as i can remember after my sister was born ,i am not sure dat anyone actually realised dat i was still part of the family ,all the attention was focused at her n she dared not cry n pointed at u as the reasons why those precious tears were falling down her cheeks,i sure got mt share of moms beating cause i would normally hit her or spank her jst to remove dat smile that she always puts on like christmas clothe .Her smile to everyone was adorable ,everything she did was adorable ,telling mom to carry her was adorable but to me it wasnt, her smile to me felt like a way of her telling me 'i got all u eva wanted'
If i told mum to carry me i would gt a hard knock on my head with d words "papa mmadu" i still wonder how a boy of five years would be a papa mmadu . Well looking back at it now it really wasnt dt dat bad, i think dats were i got my whole independent nature .Cos intead of waiting for mum to carry me i carried my self i applauded my self wenever i felt i did someting worth applauding
Raising kids is difficult job,no wonder a lot of parents fail at it ,and all this is because u neva knw where u are going wrong .