Since my brother got engaged I have found myself thinking a lot about how much he has grown up. With those thoughts comes a flood of memories from times past. Today’s post, or rather story, is one of those memories. A quick reminder that we all make mistakes and that babies are more resilient that you’d think.
I lived in Texas from the time I was 6 until I right after I turned 12. While we lived there my little brother was born. Wasn’t he cute folks. Anywho, when he was about one and a half I dropped him… in the garage. Sister of the year award winner right here!
It was some time during the fall because there were a bunch of leaves that had blown into the garage and decided to take up shop right by the door that leads into the house. I was carrying him out to the car so that my mom could take us to school and I slipped on all the leaves. We were right in front of my Dad’s old car which, for whatever reason, didn’t have license plate cover on it so when I fell I managed to slice my wrist open and he bit his tongue.
Needless to say there was a lot of blood, a lot of crying and I was late for school that day. Come to think of it, the fact that my Mom made me go at all was a little messed up. I was wearing butterfly bandages, not sure how I didn’t need stitches, and he got to eat popsicle for weeks. I still have a little scar on my left wrist. I haven’t checked but I’m almost 100% sure that his tongue healed just fine.
Well folks I think that’s enough of me sharing my horrible sisterly ways for one day.