I used to have an imaginary friend. His(?) name was Croovy. My mom used to watch me out the window as I played in our backyard with Croovy... And by playing, I mean wagging my finger at him and bossing him around. I don't remember Croovy, but he was apparently my means of asserting toddler power.
It seems I liked to boss imaginary pirates around too. I remember getting busted for writing a message to some particularly heinous bad guys on my basement door with pencil. It said simply, "NO, YOU!!!" as in, "No! You villainous scum! Get away from my ship or suffer unimaginable pain at my wrath!" I'm sure the bad guys complied, but my parents didn't think I was all that terrifying. They yelled at me and found it strangely easy to punish me, despite my alarming graffiti threats to all that stood in my way.
But then came my sister. She took the place of all things imaginary. I loved to make a living, breathing being do my bidding. "Hey Amy. Taste this and see if it's rotten." ...And dutifully, she would obey. "Amy, smell my feet! They smell like roses!" ...And curiously she would comply... again and again. When we would act out the Brady Bunch, I was always Marsha, and I insisted she be Cindy. She once tried to assert herself by requesting that she take the part of Jan for once. "Nope. You are the youngest and I am the oldest, so you will be Cindy and I will be Marsha." Jan never had the chance to appear in our little play sessions while "Marsha! Marsha! Marsha!" called the shots.
And then my Napoleonic complex took the form of fighting over boys. In nursery school, there was a boy named John that caught my eye. Unfortunately, he also caught Stephanie Mihele's eye, too. One day, she and John were sitting atop the wide, two-seater slide on the playground. They had no intention of sliding down. They just sat there, perched in position and talking to each other. So I pushed her down the slide and maneuvered my way into an easy conversation with John, the competition now staring incredulously from the base of the slide.
Maybe it's a big sister thing... Or maybe it's because I'm so short and I have felt I had to prove that I am to be taken seriously, despite my miniature appearance. Whatever the case may be, I am a frightening creature, indeed.
10 comments:
I love that you pushed her down the slide. Way to go.
Control issues?
What control issues?
I can so identify with you, Shana. I was a pretty scary big sister too, bossing, teasing, threatening, and torturing. But at least I had several younger sibs and didn't pour all of it on only one sister. Poor Amy
Pushing the competition down the slide was sheer genuis!
I stalked first, so there! ;)
I love the image you create of a short, sassy, bossy little dentist! LOL!
I think I might do a little post to explain my last... the opponent and all...
Thanks for the comments! :)
Shana, I honestly don't think you would even know how short you are, if people didn't constantly remind you of it.
But you ARE awfully cute :)
Poor Amy. As a younger sister with an older sister much like you, I feel her pain! Diana would make me be the witch and she was always the princess during our pretend playing. Her reasoning was I had dark hair and she had beautiful luxurious yellow hair. And, being the younger sister, I totally bought it.
Thanks for your sympathy, Angie.
No wonder I shudder when I come across Brady Bunch reruns on TV!
Hey, Shana, you forgot to mention the time you locked me in the closet because you didn't want me playing with your friends...
It's a good thing we got over it, and are good friends now. Otherwise I might still be in therapy.
Funny post Shana. Its partially a big sister thing. However, in my own defense I DID have golden princess hair and COULDN'T have been the witch. Hey, I didn't make up the rules.
You know, Di has a real good point.
Di, haven't you seen "Wicked" yet? Surely you've heard of Glinda!
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