Superbrother!

When my brother is five and I am three, my mother attempts to go to the bathroom by herself. When she comes out, she finds me holding an apple that has been impaled on two knives, eating it like corn on the cob. She promptly takes it away.

Mom: “[Brother], why did you do that?!”

Brother: “She wanted an apple, but I couldn’t reach the apples, but I could reach the knives!”

Mom: “You could have hurt yourself!”

Brother: *Suddenly sobbing* “I did hurt myself!”

He brought his hands out from behind his back to reveal that he had cut himself on the web of one hand. Mom cleaned him up and brought us to the hospital. Because she was so concerned about getting him seen, she didn’t change us out of our pajamas, and my brother was wearing Superman pajamas, cape and all. By the time we were ready to go home, several doctors had stopped by to say hi to “Superman” and compliment him for being so brave while he got his stitches.

It was a while before Mom trusted us to behave ourselves enough to go to the bathroom alone again.