The thunder rolled and boomed through the house. Lightning cracked outside and suddenly I heard the tapping of little feet running my way. I took a deep breath and sighed because it meant my little brother was coming in the room. The door to my bedroom slowly creeped open, and a thin trail of light slid over my face.
“Come on”, I told him.
This was a routine for him. The little brat was SCARED of thunderstorms. My little brother and the other storm refugees were suddenly piled into my bed with me. He of course brought along his trusty blanket and the Snuggle laundry softner bear. He loved those commercials when he was a kid. I sighed again and rolled over to try to get some sleep.
My brother, Tim, however was not in the mood for sleep. The thunderstorms had him worked up to the point of no sleep and at the age of four what that really meant was he wanted to wrestle. As I snuggled down into the warmth of my bed, I suddenly felt the covers being yanked away from me and heard his little giggle. I rolled over, gave him a dirty look, recovered myself, and tried to go back to sleep again. A few seconds later YANK, cold air.
With an increasing amount of hostility I reached over, covered myself again, and told him to knock it off. It worked for about another thirty seconds, and at this point I was getting mad. I pulled the covers away from him and wrapped myself up in them so they were held down by my weight. His giggles stirred the quiet air as he tried over and over to pull the covers away again.
Then he made the fatal error. He actually pulled them out from under me again. I flipped over, grabbed them, and we started an all out tug-of-war. He was in the bed squatting down, and for some reason he put the covers in his mouth to pull on them.
Suddenly, a little light went off in my head. I remember slowly looking down at my hands and then looking over to him. I realized he was not actually holding onto the blankets with anything other than his teeth. I did what any good sister would do at that point. I let go.
Tim flew backwards off of the bed and landed on a game that was on the floor on that side of the bed. To this day, we argue about what game it was. He claims it was Hungry Hungry Hippos, I claim it was some left over 70’s reject handmade down from the next door neighbors. Regardless, what it had was four sharp edges and the ability to crack a skull…ummm twice. This exact same story happened again a few months later. One time he got staples in his head the other time…nothing. For the record…the second time I got in trouble.
What does he get out of this now? A military haircut that proudly displays 2 of the war wounds from growing up with an older sister and people constantly asking him how he got those scars on his head.
Two Teeth Later:
Fast forward a year. Our house was a smaller home when I was growing up, but what it did have was a hallway with doors at two ends so we could run in circles around the house. One of our favorite games was for one of us to randomly hit the other one, and then the chase would begin. Round and round we would go until our mother yelled at us to stop before SHE spanked us.
Well, on this particular day, my brother was chasing me for some reason, and mom was yelling to stop it before the beatings (I use that word lightly not seriously) commenced. I stopped the chase alright! I slammed the door that my brother was about to run through. Instead of running through an empty doorway, he was met face to face with the doorknob. One front tooth went flying, and the other was knocked loose. The second tooth fell out about a week later when he was chewing on a curtain (Why in the heck was he doing that???!!) in his bedroom.
His teeth now? Beautiful and he has one of the most attractive smiles I have EVER seen on a man. The jerk.