And she wonders why I make fun of her..


My younger sister is a good person. She is a great aunt to Murph, his brothers, and his cousins. She is loyal to a fault. She is well liked and has some really great friends. Sure there is the occasional moment that she gets a burr in her saddle and her heads spins, but all in all, I can't complain. Much.


She, on the other hand, will tell you what a horrible person I am, and how I have always been mean to her. She'll tell you of all the mean things I did and said to her. She'll tell you how I used to put her in headlocks (for her own good) and that I made her eat dirt (because if you double dog dare someone it means they HAVE to do it). She will convienently forget the things she did and said to me. Like the time she called me fat and I called her stupid. She claimed names hurt her more than they hurt me (I think that just goes to prove my point)

But that's mud under the bridge.

I prefer to think of it as my duty as an older sibling to toughen her up for the mean, outside world. I think I have failed.

Here is an excerpt from our last phone conversation.

Her: Sometimes when I sit on the toliet I weigh my legs. They weigh like 11 pounds each. Do you think that's right?

Me: You know this is going in the blog right?