My boss just told me her son thinks he is carrying his baby sister in his stomach and won't "poo" because she might fall out. Hey, at least he is protecting her.
I never found that kind of protectiveness with my sisters. I got handed a hot curling iron by Courtney who said it wasn't hot, when in fact she had plugged it in so that she could turn my hand into her own personal "let's see what happens when human skin is heated to the point of boiling" experiment. Later that year she mistook me for some sort of sparkler sword fighter and whipped me on my arm with a 3 foot sparkler that was still on fire. (As a side note that same 4th of July a June bug flew up my nose. Not my best 4th of July.) She got her fair share though my littlest sister Whitney peed in a dixie cup and told Courtney it was lemonade. It only took her one sip to realize that it was in fact not a sugary sweet drink but the waste of a toddler. Yummy. Apparently we were raised by people who thought of pain and affliciton as child's play. Who needs monopoly when Chinese water torture is an option? Obviously not the Matalone's.
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