You all know I'm the biggest wimp that ever apologetically drew breath around here, but if anyone messes with my boys, I grow fangs and talons, and I shoot to kill.
My brother, Skippy, was a year younger than I, and there was this nasty big boy who picked on him in kindergarten. I still remember his name- John Fowler.
Are you out there, John Fowler? You were a jerk when you were seven.
So one day I marched to his house, banged on the door, and when his parents invited me in, I proceeded to tell them what a little creep their son was. THey were very nice and later they called my mother to tell her what a brave, wonderful sister I was. Which wasn't true at all; I was a shitty big sister, but he was MY little brother, and no one else was going to treat him that way.
So personally I would have to admit there's no nobility involved, just possessiveness and primitive maternal instinct. |
