When Life Gives You Lemons

I have always taken pride in the fact that I can adapt to different roles or circumstances easily, finding qualms in neither walking in my cheap-ethiopian-car-tyre shoes, which I've been wearing all the time since my return from that precious country a bit less than a year ago, nor the real-leather ones that I reserve for some poshy occasion. Life is a rollercoaster ride through and through, according to the tunes of which I try to dance as best I can, without getting too disheartened or lightheaded in the process. However, attempt as I may, up till now, I have not managed to come up with the best techniques, or rather those that are pleasing to both myself and the people around me, through which I stimulate my twelve-year-old bro's interest in anything else save computer games or TV shows, as well as effective methods of correction.

He is a born clown to the bone, a talent he has inherited from our father, who used to find a good laugh in practically everything. True to this tradition, my brother ably discerns a laugh up his sleeve whenever I see it appropriate to correct him on some thing or other, him seeing no difficulty in exposing it there and then. Writing about it now, it all sounds very amusing, but I assure you that when faced with his belly laugh while delivering my all authorative parent-like speech, I immediately come to the end of my tether without further ado, proving myself as a worthy understudy to whichever respected tenor, such is the pitch that my voice successfully reaches as I shout every inch of my patience up my vocal chords.

I am well aware that this no way to go about correcting one's siblings, especially because it falls extremely short of exemplary. Now for the Nth time, I renew my resolution to keep poised, when the situation calls for a correction of sorts. May be this time around, I will succeed. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade (or lemon meringue mmmm).