Today during lunch I was reminded with a jolt that there was one person in this world who could, if he wanted to, blackmail me. Well, let’s just say that this person remembers things I did ages ago of which I have little recollection.
John was in his story-telling element today, with Zibin, Cathy and my mom as rapt audience. Me? I was listening with horror and embarrassment as I realized that his stories rang a bell…and that nobody, not even my mom, before today, had heard of some of them.
Among those I remembered and had previously confessed to: painting John’s nails; throwing ice-cubes/cold water over the shower-curtain when he’s bathing; egging him until he runs after me with a plastic cudgel while I run screaming into my bedroom and slam the door; tricking him into playing games I want to play including getting him to role-play as a princess; enticing him into breaking houserules together such as eating potato chips in the bedroom while reading Archies etc.
However, there are more ‘dark acts’ that are returning to haunt me. John narrated the story of this one time when he had asked me to help with an art-work he was working on. He had asked me to draw the clouds because he felt I drew nice clouds. And so I did. After he had finished the rest of the picture and signed it, he proudly came to show me the picture. I queried how come my name wasn’t included since I contributed the clouds. I asked him if he was going to add my name. He said no. And what did I do? I proceeded to erase all the clouds I had drawn!
Cathy was doubled over laughing. Zibin was in shock, “You really did that? You were so mean?!” My mom was tickled and amused as usual, upon hearing a new story about how naughty her first-born child was (though of course she is not surprised).
*sigh* Yes, as a child I was a bully. Having a sibling 4 years younger is a wonderful thing because he admired me for all the things I could do that he couldn’t yet do, and that was a powerful leverage to have. I had my way with a lot of things.
Yah, I had more than my fair share of a mischievous streak. Just imagine. In primary school I had the experience of being spanked by a teacher, slapped by another teacher, scolded by a classmate’s mother, picked upon by yet another teacher for driving her insane, and had book after book confiscated because I was reading them under my desk during class (not that I cared cos they were all school library books anyway).
A few years ago, when Zibin first saw pics of me as a child, he commented that I had a look on my face like I was hiding all kinds of tricks up my sleeve. He wasn’t too far off. To my mom’s credit, she could always see the positive side of people and bring out their best, even for this incorrigible daughter. Somehow she tamed me without breaking me, and kept believing in me. And I suppose other than myself, John is the only other person who would know just how amazing a feat that is because really, John’s the one person to have truly seen and experienced the worst of me!
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After John read this blog entry and was getting a massage from me:
Me:“Eh, I was really mean to you when we were little hor…”
John:*nods piteously* “Yah lor.”
Me:“Then why did you still like me so much ar?”
John:“I was stupid? But nevermind, that’s why now you must give me massage to make up for being mean to me last time.”
Journey of the Heart 