It’s evident I’m the youngest, isn’t it?  A bit self-absorbed, over-imaginative, still wants presents from her parents.  But I’m also a bit of an oops baby, a party crasher if you will.  There my parents were, living out the American Dream, happily running their own restaurant, raising three children, forming friendships that would last them a lifetime.  And then yours truly showed up, rolling to the party during a Friday Night Fish Fry.  Of course my parents will tell you I was a surprise, and for my siblings who range 7-13 years older, I was a live doll to torture play with.  Here’s the thing, they started out by including me, they let me play games, use their toys, eat candy, and entertain them with talented impressions of Steve Urkel from Family Matters.

This is Steve Urkel.

But then, we started playing new kinds of games, games called “Experiments.”  We learned what would happen when your teenage sister asks you to close your eyes and hold out your hand.  A cascade of clacking noises follow and little hard lumps topple into your hand.  It could be candy, you think with anticipation.  It’s not.  It’s your teenage sister’s collection of baby teeth.  That’s right, she dumped her teeth in your hand.  “Why do you have these?” you scream, your face contorted in horror.  There is no reply, she is laughing too hard.

Gross, but harmless fun, right?  Well, that was before my brother got a microscope for christmas.  This time when you’re asked to help “experiment” they tell you to hold up your index finger.  They proceed to wrap a rubber band around and around and around the tip of your finger.  They wait while your finger changes from its healthy, fleshy pink coloring to a purple blue bulging nub.  Then, they do the inevitable, they tell you to close your eyes again.  You should run, you should know this means trouble, you should call for help, but they’re so much cooler than you are, they can ride bikes and pick out their own clothes, and most important of all, they’re family, they wouldn’t hurt you. “Owwwwww!”  Turns out they can hurt you.  In fact, your siblings stabbed you.  They wanted to know what blood looked like under the microscope.

Early 90's version of a torture device, cleverly named science tool.

This is why I played alone.  And why my favorite game was called Orphan.  And it’s another example of why I’m convinced I have multiple lives.  But the truth is, I love my siblings.  I love them for helping make me a stubborn, and overly imaginative child.  If I’d have had a harmonious childhood, I’d have had nothing to write about.  And really, what’s a little blood in the name of sibling?

How about you readers?  Were you the mad scientist in the household, or the Frankenstein freak being tested on?  I’m thinking about starting a club someday, TITHAFYS, Teeth in the Hand Alliance For Youngest Siblings, I’ll be needing a strong leadership team, put your nominations in for VP, treasurer, and secretary.  Happy writing!