Around the time I was 5 years old I had a stuffed animal I took everywhere I went, as do most 5 year olds. It was a little teal puppy dog, which I absolutely loved. I named him according to his color, which to my 5 year old eyes was greeny-greyish-blue. When I turned six I learned he was really teal, but when I tried to change his name it didn’t fit.
Around the time I was 5 my younger brother Killian would have been 3. At that age I didn’t have many hobbies, but I did have one. This was one of my favorite things to do [on a daily basis]. What that was… tormenting my little brother. He was so small, it was so funny, and… he let me. To this day those are the only explanations I can find for why I did what I did to him.
Over 3 of the five years I was alive I had come up with many ways of tormenting my little brother. I didn’t wake up in the morning and say, “oh I think I'm going to go mess with my little brother today”, no. I just came up with these little ways to have fun, and they just happened to involve my younger brother. It was a kind of, bonding time.
To be plain, I was not a good child. By that I mean I was not easy to manage. I was always getting into some kind of trouble, and since I had only one sibling to share this with, my brother got the wonderful pleasure of joining in with my mischief.
Back then my brother’s room consisted of very few things, which was relatively normal for a 3 year old boy. His room was small and square, when you first walk in there is a closet to your right, two windows to the front of you, some pictures and a dresser on the back wall, a bunk bed on the left wall , and on the ceiling in between the bed and the 2 windows was his fan.
So one day in the summer of 2003 I decided was bored, which for my brother [and most usually my parent’s wallets] was a bad sign. I had no idea what to do so I took greeny-greyish-blue into my brother’s room to see what he was up to.
As always he was sitting on the wall beside his dresser playing his game boy advanced. He barely noticed I had walked into the room, he was too enveloped in his game to even notice. I went over to his bed and climbed up to the top bunk. I sat there with greeny-greyish-blue so a few minutes watching the fan spin around.
Then it hit me! I knew exactly how I was going to entertain myself that day. I figured it would be fun to make greeny-greyish-blue fly. I thought stuffed animal + fan = flying stuffed animal.
I started to time one of the fan blades, so that I could tell when to drop him. 1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3 DROP! The second greeny-greyish-blue hit the fan blade it snapped off! It fell and hit the blinds on his window, and those broke off too and they both slammed to the ground.
My mom came running up the stairs to make sure no one got hurt, and ask what happened. After I told her my story she did not look happy. I wished that I had just pretended to be hurt so she wouldn’t be as mad at me. Then she said the one thing I dreaded most… I’m going to have to tell your father. I knew that once he heard the story he would be sooooooo mad.
When my dad got home I was really nervous. My mom told him after dinner, and he told me that I had to pay for a new fan with my own money, which at an allowance of 2$ a week was going to take years. After that day I learned a lesson, it was probably not the lesson you would hope for your child to learn, but none the less I had learned it. That lesson… the next time I mess with my brother I need to be more careful not to break anything expensive?.