when i was 5 or 6 years old, i electrocuted my younger brother.... twice.
you heard me right. i electrocuted him. not once, but twice.
i told this story in our sunday school class a few weeks ago, and it always brings me to tears... good tears. as in laughing-so-hard-i'm-crying-tears. i don't think the story itself is necessarily that funny, it's just that when i tell the story, i go back there and i can see it happening all over again. okay, here they come again....
but i digress - onto the story:
i was probably 5 or 6, which would have made cam 2 or 3. i'm thinking we were more on the 6 and 3 side now, though, because i can't imagine brady being old enough to do this.
we lived in an old farm house in brentwood, tennessee. for some reason we were playing as if cam was picking me up and driving me somewhere - like a chauffer. and we somehow had REAL keys. {i don't know if they were actually my mom's keys or if they were extra keys she'd given us to play with - but the point is that they were metal}.
we had made some sort of car contraption that acted as the car and placed it strategically against the wall in my room so that we would have somewhere to put the keys like you do in a real car.... are you seeing where this is going?
cam put the metal keys in the electrical outlet! it shocked him.... and good.
he cried. i remember crying too - not because i thought he was hurt - but because i thought we were going to get in trouble. i remember it smelling a bit and making a quick, loud 'pop' sound. we went and got our mom and she explained why it happened and that we should never do it again because we could get really hurt.
flash forward 10 minutes after cam had calmed down:
we were playing 'car' again - and somehow i'd talked him into chauffering me around some more.
here's where it gets interesting: somehow... someWAY... i convinced my brother that if he put the keys in the socket again it wouldn't happen again. and he believed me!
you heard me right. i electrocuted him. not once, but twice.
i told this story in our sunday school class a few weeks ago, and it always brings me to tears... good tears. as in laughing-so-hard-i'm-crying-tears. i don't think the story itself is necessarily that funny, it's just that when i tell the story, i go back there and i can see it happening all over again. okay, here they come again....
but i digress - onto the story:
i was probably 5 or 6, which would have made cam 2 or 3. i'm thinking we were more on the 6 and 3 side now, though, because i can't imagine brady being old enough to do this.
we lived in an old farm house in brentwood, tennessee. for some reason we were playing as if cam was picking me up and driving me somewhere - like a chauffer. and we somehow had REAL keys. {i don't know if they were actually my mom's keys or if they were extra keys she'd given us to play with - but the point is that they were metal}.
we had made some sort of car contraption that acted as the car and placed it strategically against the wall in my room so that we would have somewhere to put the keys like you do in a real car.... are you seeing where this is going?
cam put the metal keys in the electrical outlet! it shocked him.... and good.
he cried. i remember crying too - not because i thought he was hurt - but because i thought we were going to get in trouble. i remember it smelling a bit and making a quick, loud 'pop' sound. we went and got our mom and she explained why it happened and that we should never do it again because we could get really hurt.
flash forward 10 minutes after cam had calmed down:
we were playing 'car' again - and somehow i'd talked him into chauffering me around some more.
here's where it gets interesting: somehow... someWAY... i convinced my brother that if he put the keys in the socket again it wouldn't happen again. and he believed me!
unfortunately, i did get in trouble this time.
i don't remember what exactly happened, but i'm sure it was not fun. i'm sure it involved waiting until my dad got home - which is always the worst kind of trouble. daddy spankings were always harder than mommy spankings. and it always invovled a 'disappointing me' talk. but now that i'm a mom, i know 'wait until your father gets home' really means: "i'm so mad that i'm afraid of what i'm capable of so you need to sit in your room until your dad comes home and he can deal with you."
so that's the story. i hope you laughed at some point.
i'm sure that cam has some sort of repressed something due to this traumatic event in his life.
although - i'm sure he got me back...
No comments:
Post a Comment