03 July 2008

Ode to My Sister (aka How Stupid a Kid Was I?)


I realize I may come across as a wee bit critical at times. Okay, most of the time. I could take personal responsibility, go into therapy, spend hundreds of thousands of dollars and maybe achieve real and lasting change. But what are the odds of that happening? Especially, when it's so easy, and so gosh darn American, to blame someone else for my evil ways. Sooooo...

There's a long list I could draw from, but here's a few things my older sister talked me into when I was a very young, gullible kid. These are the ones I can mention without activating the tic:

  • She had me hold an orange segment on my closed eye for five minutes so I could be in her (non-existent) club.*
  • She'd let me stay up with her to watch The Twilight Zone and other scary shows when she babysat and then imitate the freaky characters to scare the hell out of me at bed-time.
  • She tossed a cast iron bank down a flight of stairs to me and told me to catch it. (Yeah, stitches. And speaking of stairs...)
  • She convinced me to roll down the stairs "like in the circus!"**
Is it any wonder I'm the trusting, happy-go-lucky, lovable scamp that I am?

* She claimed her club was called the Charter Club. Then when we'd be in the car and see a bus with the word "Charter" on it, she'd claim it was full of club members. Clever, no?

* * I know, I know. No stairs in your average circus. But you don't know. She can be very convincing.


[P.S. on the Wegman's Experiment: Thanks to all those folks who played our game! We have not forgotten about you. Sean and I are burning the midnight oil, collating and tabulating the results. (Okay, pretty much Sean is. Thanks, Sean!) We'll then consult with Anderson Cooper to tell us what it means, earnestly and compassionately, as only Anderson Cooper can. Hopefully, we'll have the results to you some time next week. Or a splitting headache. Or both.]


8 comments:

charlotteharris said...

My (younger) sister remembers all the mean stuff I did to her when we were kids, but interestingly, I don't remember ANY of it. Memory really is selective. I can never figure out why she doesn't try too hard to hang out with me now that we're adults. Hmmmm...

GreenCanary said...

One time, my brother and sister tied my hands to the feet of my dresser and my feet to the legs of a chair, and then tickled me until I almost blacked out. That? IS TORTURE. I blame them for the gargantuan circumfrence of my Personal Space.

rs27 said...

my brother hit me in the head with a baseball bat once.

Dixie said...

Every time I read something like this, I am more and more thankful that I am an only child.

I do, however, have an older cousin, who, in our youth, was plagued by that older brother syndrome. The scary TV/stories thing happened at our grandmother's house. Often.

I was also forced to play football. In Georgia. In July. Need I say more?

Bilbo said...

I, of course, was a perfect child, except for that one incident with the Little Fermi First Nuclear Reactor kit. But the judge sealed the records, so it's okay.

lacochran said...

charlotteharris: Oh, you forgot. How conVENient.

Green & rs: Wow. You win. Or lose. Wow.

Dixie: Tackle?

Bilbo: That explains a lot.

zandria said...

Ah, sister-love. I have two of them myself, so I can relate. :)

lacochran said...

zandria: I noticed you didn't say whether you were the inflicter or the inflictee.