The Dent Story

This is Big Brother and me, this is his wedding day. As a child I never thought I would see the day when he would get married, because with the Big Brother I grew up with... who would!?! But he's grown up quite a bit. Following MamaKat's prompt this is a story of Big Brother and me... and what I was wrongfully blamed for! xoxo family :)

When I was a child my brother and I fought… A LOT! Not just the, oh you’re brother and sister fighting- more of the you are the only person I cannot stand in the world and I will do anything to take you out. Kind of fighting. Looking back I don’t know how my parents didn’t take the two of us out. Or at least my brother, that might have been nice, after all I was in innocent princess. Right?!

I tell this tale often, because I look back and find it ridiculously hilarious though that day… I. did. Not.

When I was around 7 or 8 my brother was five years older than me, making him 13 or 14. There is a pretty significant size difference between a 7 or 8 yr old girl and a young teenage boy. My brother played defense football and was really good (should have been my first clue) and had kindly asked me to play with him. I ignorantly, eagerly agreed and we played in our family room. A happy reunion me and my big brother playing football, a.k.a my brother now had permission to pummel me into the ground.

After a while I was tired of being the one sacked. I decided this time he would be taken down and while my brother was hiking the ball I grabbed my brothers ankles out from under him. Not quite so brilliant. Instantaneously, Big Brother was off of his face planted in the ground and had me by the ankles. He proceeded to swing me in a circle and release me into the living room wall. Kindly enough there was a couch to catch my fall.

I let out an earth shattering scream that only a little sister can do, but we all know light travels faster than sound and my brother was already gone. My parents came to the rescue and discovered there was a fresh new dent in the wall. I explained that Big Brother threw me into the wall, with as much detail my semi unconscious brain could recall. (oh he’s really gonna get it this time).

No, No, no, I should have known better than to instigate Big Brother and play football with him. I should have known that “something like this was going to happen.” Thus it quickly became my fault that my head made a dent in our family room wall. Abort, Abort, this is not going according to plan, maybe if I cried a bit harder they would have believed me. I am 100% positive I NEVER instigated my brother and that he NEVER was blammed for something I did rather than him... Regardless the story remains, my head and my dent are all too blame.