I asked my sister Kristina what I should blog about. She suggested either how great she is, or childhood trauma. I have decided to combine both of those and describe how Kristina made my childhood traumatic.
When I was around seven or eight and Kristina was two or three, I loved lying on the floor coloring, reading, writing, or whatever else I did at that age. Kristina loved running around and jumping on things. This combined with unfortunate results for me, as I was her favorite thing to jump on.
So I would just be hunched over on the floor, innocently doing my thing, and Kristina would run around the corner, take a flying leap, and land on my back, knocking the wind out of me. I would scream at her to stop, and my mom would tell me to be nice to her.
To make matters worse, every time I told my friends or cousins about how Kristina routinely abused me, they would say, "But she's just a baby! She doesn't know any better!"
For the record, three-year-olds are not babies. Also I believe I have found a culprit for any back problems I may develop along the line.
