My brother and I are under two years apart in age. He also had the good sense not to ruin my seventh birthday like another sibling of mine, so I harbored no ill will towards him at first. The angst wouldn't pop up until we were older.
As noted before, I am a baby junkie. This started at very young age. Now, I don't remember this incident, but my mother tells it with such...drama and flair....that it must have happened.
One day, my mom was in the kitchen, and I walked in "carrying" my brother in really what could only be described as an awesome WWF choke hold. Evidently, I heard him fussing in his crib, and I thought he needed to get up. The other possibility (given the choke hold and all) is that I was going to get him to stop crying, come hell or high water. I'm pretty sure though it was choice #1. Most likely.
So my mom turns around, and sees me basically strangling my brother. I have to give her props for keeping her cool. Me, I would have gone to DEFCON 10. Because, honestly, I don't do well in stressful situations. At all. Shocking, I know. If there is an emergency, call Jason, not me. I will be of no use to anyone (but don't tell Jason I said that about him. I'd hate him getting a big head. I'm still dealing with the "If it weren't for me you'd be dead" hubbub).
Mom said she very calmly spoke to me, and she managed to rescue my brother from my loving death grip. I'm sure I got a lecture on why it was very bad to drag the baby out of the crib, down a flight of stairs, through gator infested waters to the kitchen. You'll be relieved to know that he suffered no ill effects from this escapade, and he went on to give my mother even more freak out moments than I did.
Thank heaven for little boys....
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