My son did this only 1 time. He was doing the I’m not touching you to his younger sister. After 5 minutes of this I reached over & smacked him. He exclaimed, “I wasn’t touching her!” to which I replied, “then it wasn’t hardly worth it for you now was it?” Neither child tries the I’m not touching you bit.
As for me I was a perfect little sister… Though I recall a friend of mine daring his younger brother to undress & run naked through the park behind our house… Once his brother started running he grabbed the discarded clothing & ran inside, locking the doors… His mother was not amused…
I was a good sister. My brother, however, was a monster.
When he was about 7, he took a butter knife and heated it in the toaster, then touched the back of my hand with it. He swears to this day that he hadn’t realized how much it would hurt me, and by the mortified look on his face when I cried and cried (I was about 12, and had previously refused to give him the satisfaction of crying when he was rotten) I believe him. To this day, I have a heart shaped scar on the back of my hand from his “experiment”. It’s a wonder (a pity? I didn’t just say that) that he didn’t zap himself.
I’m two years and five months older than my sister. When I was about three, two of my cousins and I attempted to smother her with baby powder. I would also tickle her until she almost wet her pants fairly often. She was great fun to tickle. Her voice would get higher and higher as she repeatedly squealed, “Stop it!” We also used to pinch each other. When we had to share the same bed, she would lie way too close to me and kick me all night. Once when we had to share a room but not a bed, she threw up in her bed. Mom made her sleep with me. I didn’t close an eye the rest of the night, terrified that she would throw up on me.
That could be why I still don’t like to share a bed with anyone.
When my brother was in his early-to-middle teens (and I was about a year older than him) he and his buddies used to come over to our house to watch movies (thanks to my mother’s exceptionally liberal “You can watch anything you want as long as you do it at my house so I know precisely where you are” movie viewing attitude, they used to “sneak” in what passed for pr0n in the tiny little town we grew up in. By normal standards, this basically meant racy Cinemax late night sort of fare.
I, being moderately evil, would wait until they were solidly ensconced and my mother had retreated to bed and then bop down the stairs, turn ON all the lights and make snacks. Then I would go plop on the couch and watch the semi-pr0n with them. Commenting at length on the critical merits, cinematography, probably enhancements of the actors, “plot” points, etc. I would also call my friends up and describe in detail so that THEY could comment as well.
munching on a chip with onion dip “Man those boobs are sooooo fake! And look at those fake eyelashes - geez. She looks like a hooker! Bah! And holy crap! What’s up with that guy anyway? Doesn’t she know that she doesn’t have to sleep with him to keep her job! She can just report him to his boss!” or “Ya Jessica, Ian is right here watching porn with John and Brian and Thomas - you want to talk to him?”
Let me tell you, nothing sucks the fun out of pr0n quite as fast as your sister and her friends commenting critically on the film in question. Keep in mind that I’m a little less than a year older than my brother - so his friends were basically smack in my dating pool (at least in theory), and MY friends were in HIS dating pool (at least in theory). When you’re 15, having your sister tell the girl you desperately want to date about your porn is waaaaaaaay past evil.
My sister is 9 years older than me and a meanie. When we were younger we had a Galaxie 500. See how slanted the rear window is? I had to lay either in the wheel well in the floor or in the window ledge all the way up to our cabin. Three hours away.
Up at the cabin she told me the motor of the lawnmower wasn’t hot. Dur.
When she was 16 I snuck into her room, picked the lock of her “memory box” and found a pack of cigarettes. Being the ever dutiful child, I immediately told on her to my parents. She, of course, got in trouble for smoking. I got in trouble for narking. Then SHE tried to punish me for narking. I took off running downstairs and whacked my head hard on the doorway. Saw stars and all of that. Dad said “See what happened? That’s what you get!”
Man, and they say that children are innocent.
This happened to a friend of mine. She was the only girl and the youngest of 6. Her brothers used to trap her under a blanket and stand on or hold down the edges so she couldn’t escape.
God, I agree with this one. To this very day my dad can make me promise anything just but waggling his fingers in my direction. His tickling would have me alternating between tears and screams of laughter.
I have memories of my older sister and cousin taking turns holding me down and beating the crap out of me. I don’t know what exactly I did to deserve that, but I’m sure I did.
Also got tied to a tree more than once for being an annoying little brother. She still doesn’t know how I always managed to get loose. Neither do I.
Mostly, though, we were mellow kids. Mom still tells the story of one of her friends coming over and wondering where we were. She told her we were reading. Her friend was dumbfounded.
I have this room under the stairs that locks on the outside and once I put my 7 year old brother in the room and locked it, then went and stomped on the stairs so the there was a mound sound and dust fell down on him.
Once I took his iPod touch and got purposely entered his password wrong so many times that he had to connect it to iTunes to unlock it.
My sister who was 9 loved to sleep in, so I set her alarm clock to 5:30 in the morning on Sunday morning, she was pissed.
I have two sisters and one. Brother and am the oldest of them and once I convinced my two sisters (9 and 4) to hold my brother (4) down on the couch and then I dropped really heavy pillows on him.
My stepcousing was playing with his cousing. They grabbed and held hostage one of my stepcousin’s sister’s dolls, and threatned to dismember it unless she stuck her finger in a light socket. She did and started crying, then they told her she needed to do it again. I think the mother entered the room and broke things up at that point.
Another time they were wrestling, and the sister’s butt wound up going through a glass coffee table. Her mother was picking glass of the sister’s butt for weeks, and my stepcousing had to pay for a new table top.
I tormented my sister by having the sheer nerve to be in her parents’ house when she came to visit. Not only that, I thought we were going to interact. You know, talk and stuff. What a brat I was – who wants to spend time with a kid?
As the youngest by from 4 to 10 years , I caught abuse constantly. I had to try to be as close to as clever as they were or as close to as strong just to survive. My sisters were easier; just take one piece of clothing from one closet & put it in another; the eruption of fireworks was always worth it.
My brother? Four years older & an athlete. You couldn’t beat him head on; you could barely out run him. And we shared a room with two twin beds. Luckily his coaches always ran him to exhaustion and after dinner he’d crash. So, about an hour after bed time, I’d climb out of my bed,
and leap across onto his, slamming down into his stomach as he slept with my full body weight. He’d yell, I’d jump back, and I’d be under the covers by the time my parents turned on the light.
“You having bad dreams again…?”
I always got a laugh years later in “A Knights Tale” when I heard the lines: “And how would you beat him?” “With a stick. While he slept.”
When I was 10 or so my older sister asked me to sing my highest note (forget the context). While I was doing so she spit in my mouth.
I once lost my temper with my younger sister & ragged on her about how stupid she was. On & on til she cried. Since she was in special ed it was particularly heinous.
While I don’t think spitting in someone’s mouth is acceptable, I believe the emotional abuse I dealt out was worse.
Like Rilchiam, my existence was apparently torture enough for my older brother. He makes you all look like a bunch of amateurs and I have the PTSD to prove it.
The Cabbage Patch Doll holing a suicide note was brilliant. Sigh, I wish I’d had sibling abuse like that!
An older sibling’s best friend is duct tape. I use to tie up and gag the younger kids in the family with it when their behavior got out of hand or annoying. The trick is to wrap the tape over clothing in binding the legs and arms and use a very small piece on the mouth. I don’t consider it torture. It was more a case of justifable self-defense or what I had to do to get them to behave.
