Sometimes You Have To Play It Close To The Chest

(I’m the jerk in this one. When I am 13 and my sister is about 11, we decide to play catch. It’s worth noting that she isn’t new to this, just having a bad start. She makes another bad throw.)

Me: “Hey, what happened to ‘hitting me in the chest’?”

(Coaches tell you to throw to the person’s chest, where their glove is supposed to be.)

Sister: “Sorry.”

(I throw it back. She makes another bad throw, this one going way above my head. I get a bit snarky.)

Me: “Human anatomy according to [Sister’s Full Name].” *pointing out body parts* “Arm, hand, fingers, leg…” *points to the sky* “…chest, apparently.”

Sister: *laughing* “Shut up!”

(After that, whenever her throws are off, I point to wherever the ball landed and say, “Chest?” She laughs for a bit, then starts to get upset. Her throws improve eventually, but I don’t let up. And then:)

Sister: “Hey, [My Name], look!” *points behind me*

(I, like a fool, make the classic blunder and turn around.)

Me: “Where?”

(My sister LOBS the ball at full force into my back, knocking me onto the ground hard.)

Sister: “Chest!”

(I left her alone for the rest of the day.)