Yesterday Steve and I were chatting with the server at a restaurant (Side note: I truly feel sorry for the servers in restaurants who get Steve and me for customers because we just looooove to chat so God help you if you have other tables to attend to 'cause we are about to monopolize your time!) and laughing about sports teams, childhood, marriage, you know the usual stuff you chat with your poor can't-I-just-take-your-order-and-move-on server about.
It struck me how common our human experience is: take sibling relationships, for example. We had a big ol' brown station wagon with jump seats that popped up out of the floor of the back. Seated 10, comfortably. Our bench seats were made of vinyl so they had these stitching lines that ran vertically down the seat. My 2 brothers and I sat in the back with my baby sister in the front (my how times have changed) so that meant that one person in the back didn't have a window seat. That's a recipe for a knockdown, drag out fight if I ever heard one. My mom had designated certain stitching lines as our 'boundary lines' and we weren't supposed to put our hands or legs or any other body part over onto anyone else's seat. Because we were good little children with immaculate behavior and sweet dispositions we spent most of our time creeping our fingers, legs, elbows, basically any body part we could stretch, move, or pull, over those stitching lines just to annoy each other. I would creep my pinkie finger over my older brother's stitching line, he would promptly take his fist and try to pile-drive that finger into the seat (which didn't really hurt because the seat would give a little and absorb some of the impact). I would snatch my finger away. Meanwhile my little brother was moving his leg over my stitching line so I had to pound my fist into his thigh (which did hurt a bit more) and then he would yelp and my mom would threaten and I would deny and my older brother would laugh so I would have to breathe really hard on him so he would yell "Mom! Beth is breathing really hard on me" so my mom would start to lose her mind and the baby would start to cry so finally Mom would reach into the glove compartment, pull out the wooden ruler she kept there for just these sorts of occasions and she would take that ruler and begin to smack whatever she could reach.
The ruler smacking generally didn't work out too well for the person sitting in the middle because my mom's reach was limited and the window-seat folks could suck their bodies into the doors as much as possible but the poor middle seat person just had nowhere to go.
I'm willing to bet that most people reading this (who have siblings) can relate to some version of that story. I don't care where you live, what God you worship, what your socio-economic status is or was: if you have a brother or sister at some point in your childhood you were willing to risk pain, retaliation, and a wooden ruler just to annoy that sibling. And you'd do it all over again if given the chance, even knowing what you know now.
You may even have a slightly different but no less immature and annoying game you play with your spouse, I know I do. I know it drives Steve crazy if I get the remote before he does. I like to get the remote and then put it on my legs with my hand loosely on top of it. Then I can be "too slow" to fast forward the TiVo, something which is guaranteed to make Steve lose his mind, but before he can grab the remote away I snatch it out of his reach and then speed up the fast forwarding. Seeing poor Steve's hand twitching on his lap as he tries to control his urge to pile-drive me into the couch and take that remote is true entertainment my friends, it really is.
So 'fess up folks. What did you do or are you currently doing to annoy your siblings or spouse? Don't be shy, chances are that whatever you did/are doing we have all done or will use as something new to try!
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4 comments:
Oh, yeah, I used to tickle my bro till he peed his pants. Oh, and I used to pin him to the floor and let spit dangle from my mouth above him. I was cruel!
I'm impressed that Steve would allow you to hold the remote at all. My hubby would fall into convulsions if he and I were watching tv together and he didn't have control of the remote.
My sister and I would have knock down, drag out fights when my parents left- compelete with weapons (shoes, wooden spoons, whatever was handy) and then see who would cry uncle first. You weren't allowed to tattle- you just had to take it!
I knew there were other stories of sibling torture out there! I am willing to bet that many of my 'lurkers' also tortured their siblings and just aren't 'fessin' up...
I used to annoy Steve by making him wear a blanket on his head as a shawl and bat his eyelashes. I called him Shy-Shy. Not sure why.
I'll bet money Steve has repressed this memory.
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