Sunday, December 4, 2011

2.1 I could… torture my sister.

In 1977 my mum brought to the world a weird little girl that was so tiny, they used to call it ‘’hamster’’.  But they had no idea that such a small little thing could make so much noise. Yes, I was a cry baby, yes I was annoying, not a soul could stand me, neither a human nor an animal, yes I was a little devil. I have no recollection of the first 4 years of my life and when I asked my parents about those years, I realized that they preferred not to remember them either. This is why I choose to move on to the next chapter of my life. In 1981, Mr. Stork brought us a second baby, my little sister, Nicoletta. With her curly blond hair and her fluffy rosy cheeks, she looked like a fairy. And of course she was the exact opposite of me. An angel. It was like that toddler didn’t exist, no moaning, no complaining, no crying, she could stay by herself all day long in her room, mumbling and playing with her toys. And obviously, she was getting on my nerves. She was so perfect and benevolent that every time I did something naughty, she would run and tell mum all about it. That’s why I used to call her ‘’Freaky Nicky’’ and as her older sister I always came up with sneaky ways to punish her. The tortures were slow, devious, tricky and always presented to her in the form of a game.
One of my favorite ‘’games’’ was the following:
You put on your little sister a sleeveless blouse. Then you place her in the high chair and you make sure the seatbelt is fastened and secure, so that there’s no escape. You tell her that she has to be very quiet while you play, otherwise dad will scold her. Then, always with a smile, you explain to her the terms of the game. You have to raise your arms as high as you can. I will tickle you continuously for 2 minutes and you must not lower them.  If you manage to keep them up, then I challenge you to last for 3, 4 or 104 minutes. I knew how to push her button and I kept telling her that she can’t make it because she is a baby and that if she lasted longer, then it would be her turn to tickle me. That’s how I succeeded tickling her excruciatingly for hours and when my turn came, I threw her off by telling her that I am too old to play such silly games.
My sole disappointment was that she never complained no matter what I did to her. For example, every time she got a new doll, I would immediately go to exercise my hairdressing skills by cutting off its hair (I’ve always wanted to master the frigging ‘’carre’’ haircut and of course I never did). When she was eating chocolate, I would grab it from her hands and she wouldn’t make a sound. When I read her stories, I would make up my own (un)-happy ending for the sweet princess and she would listen to me quietly without objecting. In vein I was struggling to get on her nerves. Was I asking too much? I just wanted to see a damn tear in her eyes, to hear her complain. Do you know what it is to have Mother Teresa in your house? Well, I do. And although she made me so furious that I used to throw my BiBi-Boes against the wall, now that I’ve grown up I can state with certainty that there is one thing I wouldn’t change in my life: my sister…

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