"Daddy's Favourite (and Most Exasperating) Kid"
In the great family of nations, the United States is the proud but perpetually exhausted Daddy—big, loud, and always trying to keep the peace while secretly wondering how he ended up with so many needy children.
There is Little Israel, the youngest, the most brilliant, and by far the most naughty. From the moment it was born, Daddy had doted on it—extra allowance (aid), the best toys (weapons), and a permanent spot on his lap at family gatherings. Sure, Little Israel had a habit of sneaking out at night to throw rocks at the neighbors (settlements), or starting fights it swore it didn’t start (airstrikes), but Daddy? Oh, Daddy would always have its back.
"He’s just spirited!" Daddy would say, ruffling Israel’s hair while the other kids rolled their eyes. "And he’s got a tough neighborhood!" (Which was true. The neighborhood was tough. But Little Israel also had a habit of poking the biggest, scariest kid on the block just to see what would happen.)
Then there was Ukraine, the scrappy middle child who had gotten into a brawl with the schoolyard bully, Big Russia. Now, Daddy liked Ukraine—it was brave, it stood up for itself, and it had a good heart. But let’s be real: Daddy wasn’t sending Ukraine his best toys because he wanted it to win. Oh no. Daddy was sending just enough to make sure Ukraine didn’t get completely flattened in the first round.
"Here, take this helmet… and this rusty rifle… and this half-empty box of bandages," Daddy muttered, patting Ukraine on the shoulder. "Just… try not to get too beat up, okay? Daddy’s got a reputation to maintain."
Meanwhile, Little Israel was in the corner, smirking. "Daddy loves me more," it whispered to itself, before casually lobbing another metaphorical firecracker into the neighbor’s yard.
Daddy sighed, rubbing his temples. "Why can’t you be more like Canada?"
Little Israel grinned. "Because then you’d get bored."
And with that, Daddy poured himself another whiskey, because someone had to keep this family from tearing itself.


Comments
Post a Comment