Sibling Rivalry Unleashed

Precious, with her ever-dramatic flair, prompted me to text Greg after our call.

"I'll be coming in after church with a few extra guests," I messaged him.

Greg always active, especially today a busy day, predictably, replied with his classic, "Genders?"

Oh, Greg, when would you change? I responded with a simple,

"4 gals" and he replied with a smiley face holding a thumbs-up sticker. His antics never failed to bring a smile to my face.

I wasn't concerned about not spending enough time with Precious; I had full faith that my circle of friends could orchestrate an entertainment symphony and keep everyone entertained.

What Precious should be concerned about was her name and her friends remembering who actually invited them to the party.

*PiM PIMMM PIMMM PiM*

My dad's signature horn sounds blared across the compound as I scrolled through Vibly memes, waiting for a reply from Siri. She hadn't responded since my last text, probably having fun with her cousins and unable to reply yet. I made my way downstairs, dressed in a white Ankara outfit designed with blue and red roses sewn into a long-sleeve shirt with black cuffs and slim-fitted trousers, paired with white sneakers—the same outfit I had seen on the twins. Everyone in the family had a matching set, and it had been so long since I wore it that I couldn't resist the temptation to match with the bros for church this Sunday.

I descended the stairs and found the twins engrossed in their fierce gaming battle oblivious to the external world, they were immersed in their virtual conquests completely ignoring the car horn that had sounded moments ago. I went straight to the main socket and switched it off, cutting power to all appliances.

"Get your asses outside now!" I scolded.

"Noooo! I almost won the battle," Theo shot me a glare.

"Yesss!" Tim yelled, jumping up. "Ten wins, I won the game. You're washing the dishes for dinner."

"That bet is officially canceled. If it's your turn to wash the dishes, better do your chores yourself," I declared deftly, looking at Tim as I began walking towards the front door. The way they switched emotions was amusing as hell; Tim was now the one glaring while a smile graced Theo's face. This was my favorite part of having twins as younger siblings.

"Not as if it was even a pro gaming battle. What were those boring amateur moves both of you were playing with? I'm embarrassed, really," I quipped, lighting up the air as I opened the front door.

"You can't beat us anymore," Theo backfired.

"What? I can't hear you. I'm standing so high up on my many champs win," I responded, not slowing my pace as I made my way outside to the front yard.

"Those championships you won don't count; we were still learning then," Tim said with indifference as he followed me out, Theo following closely a few inches behind him.

"Oh, and y'all are now pros, ehhn?" I jested, turning my neck sideways to look at both of them.

"I didn't say that; I only said you won't be able to beat us," Theo rebuffed as we stepped out into the yard, walking towards the car.

"Even John couldn't win champs back to back when he came home for holiday from college last month," Tim boasted. John, my immediate younger brother and the fourth son before Favour; he's in his final year at the university, studying software engineering.

I could clearly see the twins feeling cocky from their gaming skills. Perhaps the competitiveness between them had boosted their gameplay. Well, I guess I would have to teach them a lesson when we got back from Sunday mass.

*PiMPiMPiMPiM*

The horn blared out again, just then the engine roared to life. I looked towards the car, curious as to why Dad was still honking even though we were already walking over. That's when I noticed that Mom and Favour were not in the car or anywhere outside. It looks like they actually still planned on spending past the designated time to get ready.

*VRoom VRoom*

Dad accelerated the engine.

"Mummy! We're leaving ohh!" Tim screamed out. "See," he turned his gaze to mine, "they're not even outside yet; we could have still been playing until they got ready."

"You were saying," I countered.

Just then, Mom stepped out of the front door hurriedly, wearing the same Ankara outfit as me and the twins, a long skirt and blouse with her head tied with a blue gaelle. Favour, who was locking the front door behind Mom, wore the same ankara, but hers was a knee-high body-fitting gown and blue heels, about 3 or 4 inches.

The sun hung lazily in the mid-morning sky, casting a warm glow over the family compound. As the anticipation for the day's event lingered in the air, a sudden exclamation shattered the calm.

"Why didn't you guys tell me we would be matching outfits today?" The voice, laden with a sense of betrayal, belonged to Dad.

In response, Mom, ever quick-witted, seized the opportunity for a playful retort, "How would you know when you're already sitting in the car so early?" Her words were tinged with amusement, a subtle dance of banter that often unfolded in their interactions.

"Daddy, just go change," Favour suggested, She turned on her heels, heading back to the front door to open it up, a beacon of practicality in the family dynamic.

"Let's just go; we must not all wear the same outfits. It's not an event with a dress code," chimed in Theo, the twin known for his logical reasoning.

"Dad, go change. It's not as if we're really late," I added. The twins, feeling the weight of their fashion choice, grumbled loudly as Dad dutifully switched off the SUV heading and followed behind Favour to the front door, their discontent echoing in the stillness of the compound.

In less than two minutes, Dad emerged, transformed, draped in a similar Ankara long sleeve, loosely fitted trousers, a blue shoe, and a red native cap.

"That's how you get dressed on time," he proclaimed, a triumphant note in his voice. The twins and I, caught up in the infectious energy, cheered him on.

Mom, with an air of seasoned patience, rolled her eyes, a gesture that spoke volumes in the language of family dynamics. She was already applying makeup in the passenger seat, a picture of efficiency amidst the sartorial drama.

Tim, the ever-casual observer, was waiting at the opened gate, engrossed in his phone. As Dad skillfully maneuvered the SUV out of the compound, Tim efficiently locked up the main gate, sealing the family enclave. The wheels were set in motion, and we embarked on the day's adventure.

The atmosphere inside the car was a blend of familial warmth and subtle tension. Dad's self-congratulatory comments about his swift wardrobe change hung in the air, a source of both amusement and eye-rolls.

Mom, focused on perfecting her makeup, seemed unfazed by the sartorial spectacle that had unfolded. The twins, still adjusting to the unexpected turn of events, exchanged glances laden with a mix of annoyance and amusement as the whole family rocked matching outfits to Mass.