An Admission of Guilt: the 1992 edition

When I was little, I used to run out my back door, past my fence, and into the woods right beyond my yard, which boasted a fallen tree (which my sister and I creatively dubbed “the Log”) and the opportunity to sit by myself for just five seconds.

Until my baby sister would appear in my wake, doing this weird scowl-y thing with her face and wondering how on earth I could have left her alone.

I would get annoyed at this point, because our house was tiny, our family was loud, and did this brown-haired, dark-eyed mini-version of me not understand the notion of privacy?

Of course she didn’t. In a family where you share everything, the notion of privacy doesn’t really fit anywhere.

Small house, remember.

Most of the time I would reluctantly let her in on whatever it was I was up to. If I was reading, I’d let her walk on the Log like a balance beam, hoping she wouldn’t fall off and scream, because her screams were so loud that most likely, the rest of my family would come running (and screaming) after her.

If I was in the mood for Pretending (the practice of which I am really hoping doesn’t get swept away with the onset of cell phones and facebook and everything else out there), I’d let her be the Servant.

Or the Dog. It was really funny when she was the Dog, because I’d put her in the actual dog house, which was constructed by my father.

If you know my father, you know that this means there were most certainly nails sticking out of the inside of the dog house.

Also, spiders.

But J would patiently allow me to actually put a leash on her, and boss her around.

Generally the theme of Pretending was that I was the Boss.

It still is, actually.

In any case, there were also times when I just decided that I could not handle this pipsqueak interfering in whatever weird, nature-y solitary act I’d embarked upon.

I’d like to take a moment to admit that I wore blue, plastic glasses and had these terrible, thick, triangle-y bangs. I was a bona fide weirdo.

So in these moments, I’d remind her that my father had put poisonous peanut butter out for the raccoons to eat.

I don’t think he actually did this, for the record.

But my sister was a thumb sucker, and she was in constant mortal terror that her hands would touch something toxic and then she would put them in her mouth.

She was convinced this would mean instantaneous death.

All you had to do was aim a bottle of Windex at her and she’d run away shrieking.

Unlike my beloved baby brother, who once took a few swigs of the stuff and was none the worse for it.

As soon as I mentioned this probably-made-up peanut butter, she’d turn on her heel and head back in the direction of the house, and I’d sit quietly for about ten minutes before I decided I’d had enough.

And on this day, I would merely like to apologize for the false reports of J-ending poison in the woods, as I am quite sure that if my sister trotted up to me today, I would be nothing more than delighted to see her LA sun-kissed face.

As long as she let me be the Boss, anyway.



Filed under Did I really do that?, Good times, Reflections

5 responses to “An Admission of Guilt: the 1992 edition

  1. auntie rosemary

    Sisters are your first girlfriends, and what would life be without your girlfriends?

  2. My little brother believed anything I told him. We also played whatever I wanted to play and do whatever I wanted.

    Then he turned 5 or 6 and got smart. I swear those damn classmates of his once he got to kindergarten poisoned his brain and told him I wasn’t really the boss…. grrr…

    • Being one of three, I found that my little brother (the baby) learned faster than my sister. I used to make my sister play Nintendo unplugged until she was like 7 (she thought she was playing). I tried to do the same thing with my brother, but at like 2 years old, he looked at me, looked at the controller, and just plugged it in and reset the game. What can you do? 🙂

  3. Aunt Kathy

    Auntie Pat was my first girlfriend when it was just the two of us, until Auntie Rose came along. Then it was the three of us. Three girlfriends. Then your Mom! Four girlfriends. If you wonder if we were girlfriends, just ask about the times Grandpa would find us all crammed into the bathroom together! Or about the times we would go out to eat with Grandma on a Friday night and get a fit of the giggles! Ah, good times.

    Aunt Kathy

    PS: You made me laugh today! Thanks!

  4. sorellaaglio

    Thank you for the apology. I had dreams about that poison peanut butter, thank you very much. And, as a child, I was not really able to separate dreams and reality very well.

    That said, I still, despite mentions of poison, loved playing with you whenever. Boss or not. You’re still the only one who can boss me around.

    Love you sorella.

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