Let’s be honest. Some crowns are burden-crowns. The “I’ll handle the funeral arrangements” crown. The “I’ll drive Dad to chemo” crown.
Nobody volunteers for those. They get thrown at you when no one else steps up. You catch it, grumble, and wear it anyway.
That’s the weird, beautiful thing. The family crown is often the ugliest, heaviest hat you own. But you wear it because someone has to.
The Baby of the Family and the Crown of Chaos
What about the youngest kid? Oh, they have a crown too. It’s just a jester crown with bells. They get away with murder because “they’re the baby.”
But give it twenty years. That baby will inherit the crown of “family comedian” or “emotional support person.” And suddenly, the bells don’t jingle so loud.
Everyone wears a crown. Even your grumpy uncle. His crown is just decorated with sarcasm and old grudge notes.
