Okay, who has siblings? Like, pretty much almost everybody, so you'll get my drift when I say this. Siblings do not always get along basically because of a few simple things: they live together, they see each other everyday and people, in general, get on each others' nerves. Especially my nerves.
Needless to say, I was the eldest sibling, which gave me the power to control a lot of what the little bro did. Especially during his toddler and elementary years. And it's true, I wasn't all that nice to him but I've apologized a million times for pinning him on the floor and pouring water in his face, for slapping his arm as hard as I possibly could when he said he was going to tell Mom that I said "ass" (he never told her, by the way, adding to the fact that he's pretty awesome), and for telling him his "My Buddy" came alive at night and was going to haunt him.
This one time, though, takes the cake. And I didn't even mean to.
One year for Christmas, Santa left us a trampoline outside. Imagine our delight as we squealed and ran out there in footy pajamas to jump on it in the freezing cold. We were ecstatic. That also happened to be the year of Space Jam, and for those of you who don't remember, that soundtrack was the best, and probably still is, album of allllll time.
Well, one day, I decided that D and I were going to create the absolute best trampoline choreography to go along with the soundtrack, because we were totally going to be famous once the critics saw how we could jump, do splits, front flips and high-fliers at the EXACT same time. It was a circus act in the making, kids.
As we were doing this, I told him that during the "Welcome to the Space Jam, Space Jam, Space Jam" part (you totally know what I'm talking about), that I'd fall down on the trampoline as hard as I could so he could go flying even higher in the air (once again, everybody knows what I'm talking about).
So I'm jumping as hard as I can to get some good leverage and then BOOM I come down butt-first on the trampoline. Except....there wasn't enough buttage on the bouncy. Something was in between me and the trampoline. OMG it's the brother's head. I fell on my brother's teeny little 6-year-old head.
He got up and started running around in circles on the tramp, crying like he had something lodged in his throat. I wish you could hear it, really. I was convinced he had brain damage. All I could think of was that I might've killed my brother and we weren't going to be famous for trampoline choreography anymore, we were going to be famous for a freak accident that left my brother with a defected voice and running around in circles 24-hours a day.
Thankfully, he's fine. I think. I'm pretty sure. But I'll never forget the day that I thought I squished my brother's head like a pimple.
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