When I was a kid,
I knew pretty much everything about everything. It was a sweet, sweet time.
Or, rather, it would have been, had I not been burdened with a brother and sisters.
Whenever I would misbehave, act selfishly, my parents would respond with an accusation: “You always WANTED to be an only child!” To which I would (mentally and silently) reply, “Duh!”
Those siblings cramped my style. A lot.
Which is why I am absolutely flabbergasted, gobsmacked, stupefied, by a couple of things I’ve done, lately. (OK, maybe not that surprised. My childhood penchant for exaggeration? Delightfully intact.)
I’m on the Twitter. So is my sister. As soon as I knew she was there, I promptly followed her. (And not just because that’s what decent people do. Ahem.) And then I waited.
Beeotch wouldn’t follow me back.
I watched her follow other people, gain more followers herself. Still nothing.
I even publicly called her out. Still, no follow.
After the fifth or sixth passive aggressive note/email/facebook message, she finally followed me. After pointing out that, “I will follow you. But just remember,you used to give me shit for that.”
Consider me burned.
And when she wasn’t busy following the hell out of me when we were kids (to the point where I once jumped out a bedroom window to get away from her), she delighted in the occasional game of “Repeat”.
You know the one, where you just say everything that your older sibling says, right after they say it. All 3 of them would do it to me. Repeat what I said till it drove me around the fragging bend, forcing me into complete silence, waiting patiently to pounce on my first utterance.
Made me crazy.
So I’m tooling around the app store on my phone, when I come across Talking Carl.
He’s a little red dude, and is FREAKING ADORABLE.
He laughs when tickled, flinches when poked, yells indignantly when “hurt”.
And repeats everything you say.
Being parroted as a kid bugged the living shit out of me. And last week, I paid $0.99 for the privilege.
I have SOOOO sold out my childhood self.