Oh, the Injustice!

Em was so furious, so fast, that it seemed impossible that this was a spontaneous outburst. She was onto her sister, saying things like, 'You owe me big-time,' and 'You'll pay for this!'

She claimed that her Barbie dolls had been absconded with, which seemed likely enough, except I couldn't find them in her sister's room.



She was in a lynching mood, and I couldn't be sure her sister was guilty. Seems like I've seen fewer and fewer Barbies around lately.

Meaning, probably, that Mo had done something with them, but I couldn't see what. They're too big to flush. The hole in the bathroom wall is full, so she didn't put them there.

Em got madder and madder until she started calling her sister names, which got her busted.

She spent the evening sulking in her room, in despair about the state of her life and telling me she was disowning Mo. 'I have no sister.'

I was telling her to lighten up.



Then I saw it. Santa. Who is hollow, like the cow I through out because he'd gotten disgusting with all the food and crap she'd snuck into him.

I'm reminded of how my brother got at me with various rear guard actions and sneak attacks. I never failed to take the bait, either beating on him or screaming at him and trying to catch him so I could beat on him.



My Dad thought my brother was innocent and that I had inexplicable rage issues. I think he was ready to send me to one of those tough love bootcamp deals when he caught my brother at it and it dawned on him: both his sons were being jerks.

I've apologized, but she's not having it. It's like our own microcosmic Middle East crisis.