Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Passive Aggression

My five-year-old arms struggled to lift the rock. Erin, older by two years, stood in front of me, tossing smaller stones into the creek. I couldn't wait to see the splash mine would make. In fact, I was so eager to throw it, I didn't bother moving closer to the stream, or even moving to the side so that Erin wasn't directly in front of me. The rock flew from my hands and time slowed; I watched its trajectory, knowing with a sick feeling in my stomach exactly where it would go. As it smashed into her head and she fell to the ground, I stood in disbelief. What if I had just killed her? My parents rushed forward, helping Erin (who was thankfully still alive) up. She cried, glaring at me, and I probably cried too.

Thing is, I was five. How much of my motivation do I really remember? I think I was aiming for the stream...

Sorry, Erin.


Erin said...

it was more like a boulder. i don't think i ever thought you did it on purpose ... till now.

Kiersten said...

You really remember that?? Mom and Dad didn't.

And I really didn't do it on purpose ; ) But it may explain why I remember more of your youth than you do...

Natalie said...

Hehe, that's really funny. My little bro whacked me with a golf club, but that was entirely on purpose. I wouldn't give him MY bike to ride.

This reminds me of a particular rock throwing incident that happen to my dad.

He was sitting on his roof, like all boys seem to do at one point in their lives, and he saw the girl he liked walking down the street.

So, he decides it would be really cool to grab a little rock and throw it NEAR her to get her attention. Well, near turned into hitting her right on the head, her telling her big brother, and a fight being scheduled.

He didn't fight, though. It turned out her big brother knew him from sports. Go figure.

Whirlochre said...

When I was 7, my school received a grant for sports equipment and they went mad, buying expensive footballs and goalposts — and hockey sticks.

Being young (and stupid) (and extra stupid)*, I played my first game like a berserk viking, waving my stick around and hacking at every other stick I could find. And it was deliberate.

When I split the end of the stick in my barbarian frenzy, my teacher ran over, bellowing, 'Oi! Those things don't grow on trees!'

I got detention for replying, 'yes they do, they're made of wood.'

* Extra extra stupid

Kiersten said...

Oh, the and stupid (and extra stupid) made me laugh. Thanks Whirl. And I think they should have moved you up a grade, rather than giving you detention.

Nick said...

I type an awesome story up and then tried to switch identities and lost it all :( maybe another time. It was about power soakers though.

Nick said...

Yeah so power soakers, we had two and we'd have water fights. Somehow I got mad at my brother and broke mine on him and then there was only one, and there weren't any more fun water fights. But those things were like 2 seconds of portable hose power. Wish they still sold them!

sylvia said...

I laughed out loud when I saw Erin's comment - now everyone is looking at me.

Kristan said...

Okay, the first two comments (yours and Erin's) CRACKED ME UP!

Also, what is it with skipping rocks and powerful memories? When I was about 4 or 5, my parents and I took my very best friend (at the time) out on our sailboat, and afterwards my dad was closing the boat up and all that, so Fauzia and I decided to skip rocks off the dock. Well, more like throw rocks off the dock -- we were too young to really have the necessary motor skills for skipping them, plus there were sailboats everywhere, i.e., no room to skip.

Not the point.

Point = Fauzia had a backpack on the shoulder of her throwing arm, and as we started throwing farther and farther (yes, a competition) one really good swing caused her bag to pull her forward. Forward = water.

Fauzia, age 4 or 5, hampered by a now soaking wet backpack, had to doggie paddle in sheer TERROR while my mom and I shouted (in sheer TERROR) for my dad to jump in and save her.

(Note: the water at this end of the dock is probably 4 or 5 feet deep. Nothing catastrophic, but still terrifying when you're little!)

Anyway, no real point to my story. Except that unlike Kiersten, I was totally innocent, since it was Fauzia's backpack that pushed her in. :P