When you’re 4 years old, your big brother is the coolest person on the planet. Everything he does is cool, from slurping that last bit of milk from his bowl of Cheerios to the way he brushes his teeth in the morning. You want to do everything he does, the way he does it. Which is why I ended up peeing out our bedroom window.
I don’t remember exactly how long after we moved to the new neighborhood it was. My big brother and I had the larger bedroom upstairs, basically in the attic, my baby sister had the other room to herself. The neighbor kids were in our driveway, my brother was showing off his ability to create a pee waterfall off the garage roof. I, of course, had to join in. Even though the kids down below were still highly amused, my brother all of a sudden disappeared. 4 years old, I figured he just couldn’t pee any more, when out of nowhere, *SLAP*, I feel the wrath of my mother right across my bare little ass. Shocking, to say the least.
My brother, I found out later, had heard my mother coming up the stairs and quickly hid under the bed. I, on the other hand, was totally oblivious. Now, I know he was only 6, but really, would it have killed him to say to me “MOM” as he hit the floor? Maybe a tap on the shoulder?
I don’t remember if mom ever found out that big bro was a party to the whole thing. My guess is that she knew, or at least found out. But no matter what, his punishment couldn’t have been worse than standing there, gleefully amusing the neighborhood kids, then hearing, and feeling, the crack of mom’s hand hitting your bare skin. Yeah, no matter what, he got off easy. Especially since he fed his adoring little brother to the shark……