Little Girl, Big Impact

It seems as though my reputation has taken a bit of a beating as a result of a certain someone's recent blog post. Oh, why be coy? My sister wrote all about my terroristic nature and the misery I caused her at home.

But as we all know, there are two sides to every story.

Things started off great. As a large bulge in my mother's belly, Pam was a docile, pleasant thing. It was after she appeared on the outside that the trouble started.

My sister, four years younger than I, followed me around so much I thought that I had grown a tail. "Mo-om!" I would wail, "Make Pam stop following me!"

"She loves you," Mom would answer. "She looks up to you."

It was a stock answer, I was sure. What, exactly, was there about me for a kid to look up to? I wasn't rich, I wasn't famous, all of my toys were at her disposal...I became sure that my mother was just saying that so I'd get off her back. She was no help.

So I had to take matters into my own hands. I really did love my sister. I did. She was so cute. She had blonde curls that bounced up and down, short little skinny legs that carried her from place to place (mostly the places I was), and cute little fingers that got ahold of and destroyed anything she could get them on, mostly things that were mine. My toys were broken, my games had missing pieces, my books were ripped and written upon. These were the doings of Destructo-Force, my little sister who appeared so innocent and adorable, yet harbored a streak that was horribly injurious to anything I owned. So, can you blame me?

And maybe, just maybe, I locked her out of the house when I had my boyfriend over because I was in fear that she may destroy him too. Ever think of that?

These days we get along great. We have a whole new respect for each other, one that I could never see coming as a child. But you can bet that when my sister comes to visit I lock up my Battleship and Monopoly and throw a forbidding sheet over my bookshelves. I'm still not taking any chances.