The Most Terrible Things I Did To My Siblings: Chapter 1

In an effort to make amends and, more realistically, ease my guilt, I felt the need to admit some of the terrible things I did to my younger siblings when we were young.

Let me answer a few questions for you first:

No, I am not the devil

Yes, I feel bad

Yes, I still think the stories are funny

So, away we go.  Please enjoy Chapter One in this series!

It was the middle of a terrible, cold, Michigan winter day. If you don't live in Michigan and have been fortunate enough to never pass through it -- imagine the coldest frozenest tundra.  Lots of snow, lots of slush, and a bitter wind chill that will give your nose frostbite in a heartbeat.

It was that kind of winter day.

My little brother and I each had a friend over to play with.  Despite this, my friend (let's call her Molly) and I were bored.  Being 12-year-old bratty girls, we immediately sought out my brother and his friend to terrorize.  

But the way a 12-year-old girl terrorizes someone is much different than, say, a boy of  ... well, any age, might terrorize someone.  The 12-year-old girl does not shout, chase, hit, or give noogies.  She does not make up raunchy rhymes or give Indian burns.  No, the 12-year-old girl messes with your mind.  And she is oh, so good at it.

When we found my brother and his friend (we'll call him Joshua), they were in his room and likely playing with legos or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.  They were 9 -year-old boys and they were behaving.  Boring.

Molly and I sauntered into the bedroom, sat on the bed, and looked down at them on the floor.  Their first mistake was that they acknowledged us.  Their second mistake was that they didn't scream, pinch us, and throw us out of the room.

I turned to Molly, and said in my most scathing tone, "Wow.  They are so lame and boring and stupid."

"Totally," Molly agreed.

Together, they shouted, "I'm rubber and you're glue, and whatever you say bounces off of me and sticks to you!!"

"Fine, Molly.  Let's go.  I had a really cool idea, but, whatever."

We got up to leave, and my brother stopped us.  Mistake number three.

"Okay, I have like the coolest adventure in the world in mind.  Are you up for an adventure?"

"Totally.  Totally.  Sounds radical."  Mistake number four.

"Well, remember how we figured out last summer that you can climb out your bedroom window and totally walk across the kiwi arbor and jump down to the back deck?"

"Yeah?"  Now they looked half skeptical and half interested.  Perfect.

"Well, I was thinking you should try that and then ... (I paused for dramatic effect) ... I think you should try to break through the ice on the pool without Dad seeing you."

Silence.

"I totally dare you," I added.

"But how would we get back into the house?"  my brother wanted to know.  "I mean, we can't climb back up, and if we come into the house in wet clothes, Dad will know for sure and we will be dead meat!!"

"Easy," I answered coolly.  "Molly and I can toss dry clothes out the window, you guys can change outside, and then you can come back in the house and if Dad asks you, just say he was asleep when you went outside and he didn't notice you."

"Wow!  This sounds AWESOME!"  They shouted.  And they agreed.  Their final deadly mistake.

So, we pulled open the window, took out the storm window, the boys crawled out, walked across the arbor, jumped down to the pool deck, and stood at the edge, all while we watched from upstairs.  When they paused and looked up to the window, we smiled and gave them the thumbs up.  Those poor, naive souls.  

And they did it.  They jumped into the pool, broke through the ice, and did a polar bear plunge.  Molly and I had to cover our mouths because we were shrieking with delight.  Oh my god!  They did it!

They crawled out and ran over under the window.  We tossed down clothes like we promised, and they actually changed outside in the (probably) -10 degrees Fahrenheit cold.  They dumped their clothes and sauntered in the back door just as we rushed down the stairs.  Our elephant feet woke up my father, who was napping in his recliner.  He probably yelled at us for being noisy and then looked at the TV to see what he had been watching before he fell asleep.

Yes, I convinced my brother it would be cool to risk his life multiple times by climbing out a second story window, walking on a pergola that was not rated to hold his weight, jumping from that height, diving through ice into a frozen pool and changing outside.  But the worst was yet to come.

Molly and I strolled over to the kitchen and nonchalantly got a drink.  My brother and his friend were sitting and the kitchen table and beaming at us.  I smiled at them, and then slowly turned toward the kitchen window.

"Dad," I called while I looked out the back window.  "Why do you think the ice on the pool is broken?  It looks like ... like maybe someone JUMPED IN IT.  Why would someone DO that?  Don't they know that the broken ice could rip the liner?"  I gave my father a puzzled look and then followed his gaze as his head swiveled to my brother and his friend, who had wet hair, red cheeks, and guilty looks on their faces.

Then, Molly and I strode up the stairs as the shouting began. 

Okay.  I know you hate me now.  But I have come to grips with that.  I know what I did was cruel, unusual, and could have killed my brother. But it was funny.  And he didn't die.  And he told me a few years ago that he forgave me.  So please, for the love of all that is good and pure, don't stop reading my blog over this.  Instead, you should love me even MORE for being willing to admit to such atrocities while other bloggers are out there acting like sunshine and rainbows spring from their asses.

Please.  Just love me.  Or I will start singing the Jennifer Hudson song. So help me god, I will.  Ask my husband.  I sing it to him roughly once a week until I wear him down and he loves me again.  

You're gonna LOOOVE me .....