I have an aunt who is younger than I am. What can I say? My mom had me when she was young. She was the oldest child in her family, and her mother had her young, too. My grandma just wasn’t finished having children even though she was already a grandmother. So, I have an aunt, Sandy, who is younger than my middle sister Nickie.
The three of us grew up like sisters. And you know what that means. Yep. The occasional argument. Three is an odd number, after all, and having an odd number easily leads to problems with children (that, among many other reasons, is why Ronnie and I are stopping at two kids). It was usually Nickie and Sandy against me or Nickie and me against Sandy. I guess, looking back, Nickie must have been the smart one out of the crowd. I never really realized that before now. Hmm…
Anyway, I have to confess that when it was Nickie and me against Sandy, we were
often sometimes occasionally a little cruel in our schemes. I remember one time, a seemingly innocent game of hide-and-go-seek was actually the front for one of our most brilliant premeditated pranks.
We had a storage closet under the stairs where my dad kept his tools and things. The knob on the door was broken and could only open from the outside. On the inside, the knob would turn and turn and never open the door. Theoretically, if a person were to be in the closet and the door were to be closed from the outside, that person would be locked in the closet until someone from the outside opened the door. Can you see where this is headed?
When Sandy came over to play, Nickie suggested hide-and-go-seek and even volunteered to be “it” first. I told Sandy I had the perfect spot, and I led her to the closet under the stairs. We turned the light off and sat quietly while we listened to Nickie trying to find us. Finally, Nickie gave up, and Sandy and I decided to leave the closet.
I let her try the knob. Of course it didn’t work. I was very shocked and tried it myself. Then, I yelled for Nickie to let us out. She jiggled the knob on the outside to make Sandy think it wouldn’t open that way either. Sandy started panicking.
I remember being very dramatic about this, though I can’t exactly remember if I actually yelled through the door for Nickie to call 911. I know I yelled things about being stuck forever and we had no food or water and we were never going to get out. Nickie played her part perfectly. We must have been very convincing to poor little seven-year-old Sandy.
I say we were convincing because she started crying. Nickie yelled at me to use some of Dad’s tools, so I grabbed a screwdriver and pretended to finagle the knob. When I turned around, Sandy had grabbed the hammer, and she had it raised and ready to break the door down. I yelled as she started swinging, and Nickie swiftly opened the door thus saving us from having to explain to my parents why Sandy would have beat the closet door with a hammer.
Sandy didn’t think this was funny. And I was a little afraid of her still holding that hammer with that manic look in her eyes. I guess it would have served us right if she broke that door down.
Like I said, we grew up just like sisters.