My first attempt at thwarting him happened when my brother was 9 or 10 months old (what does it matter? I was four). While he was tooling around in his rolling walker (complete with tray so the little hellion could stuff his drool-covered face with MY snacks), I devised a plan. My mother was in the kitchen and my father was at work, thus leaving me alone with my brother in the living room. It didn't take long for me to grow bored of Curious George's adventures. Obviously you were going to end up in the ER for swallowing a puzzle piece, George. This is why primates should not be kept as pets. Nor should they be brought to a human hospital to waste resources when the puzzle piece will just be passed and subsequently flung at the Man with the Yellow Hat. Anyway, while sitting on the pristine ivory carpet in the living room was when I noticed the potted plant in the corner. I snuck over to the plant and grabbed two handfuls of dirt. I trailed some of the dirt on the carpet and dropped the rest on the tray of the walker while my brother stared at me with a toothless, I-don't-understand-what's-happening-but-yay! grin. I put a little dirt in his hands, and even smudged some on his face to give the illusion that this little beast will eat us out of house and home if he is not destroyed immediately. I wiped my hands off on the back of the couch to destroy the evidence. Show time. I ran in to my mother, put on my most angelic, how-could-anyone-not-trust-my-four-year-old-sweetness face, and shouted, "Mama! You're gonna kill him! Look what he did!" My mom rushed in and surveyed the scene. In the small amount of time it took me to run to the kitchen, my brother had now rolled over the dirt on the floor and was now picking up what was left on his tray and rubbing it in his hair. "Muahaha!" I thought, and sat back to witness my brother's excommunication.
I, however, underestimated my mother's intelligence. I saw her pick up my brother's hands and look at them. She then came over to me and looked at mine. Seemingly satisfied, she turned back toward my brother. "This is it!" I thought, "That little lump has a first class ticket to foster care!" She quickly turned back to me and picked up my hands again. That's when I saw it. The dirt under my normally sparklingly clean nails. Son of a bitch. I knew I should have done this when dad was home.
My mother was shocked that such a sweet plum could have conjured such a heinous plan. My brother was immediately whisked into the tub where he enjoyed a spa day while I sat in Time Out. I vowed to be smarter next time. TWO steps ahead. My brother's cuteness was merely a mask for what was truly underneath. Pure evil. I could hear him giggling in the other room. That little brat was mocking me. "This will not do," thought the Queen, "This will not do."
To be continued....
