(The fourth in the ‘not suitable for tv that old ladies watch, but indicative of a fairly boring life’ series. Click back to Thursday on the calendar to start from the beginning)
A quickie today, which is an addendum to yesterday’s tales of failed attempts at practical joke glory.
I was only a mean big sister sometimes, usually when babysitting (which I’d take literally – I’d sit on Weebro if he didn’t do my bidding). My most usual trick was playing catch with him, throwing the ball as far down the street as I could (I throw more stereotypically girlily now), then running into the house and locking the door. I’d only let him in, or resume play, when he started yelling loud enough for my mother to hear him/for me to get in trouble. He fell for this almost every time.