Bite Me

For two and a half years I was an only child. I loved the fact that I was the sole recipient of my parents’ affection: the only one they played with, the only one they bought things for, the only one they tucked in at night. I loved that life. At the conclusion of those first two and a half blissful years, I received some rather disturbing news; a younger sibling was soon going to be a part of the family. On November 26, 1990 my younger brother, Joseph, was born.

I was able to deal with the newborn, I mean, my parents still needed someone to play with and Joseph couldn’t even hold up his own head up. But as he grew and transformed from an infant to a toddler he became cuter and I became old news. As I started having to share my parents’ attention I started to get jealous.

I didn’t like being forgotten about; I didn’t like being the older sister. I decided that drastic measures needed to be taken to remedy the situation and return me to my rightful position as favorite child. Overthrowing this newcomer was going to take a lot of planning; he had a lot going for him with those crater like dimples and his big brown eyes. But I was up for the challenge.

One day as Joseph and I were playing I noticed how he did whatever I asked. It was then that I had an ingenious idea. I wandered over to my brother and held out my arm to him and said, “Bite me.” He looked up at me with confusion in his big brown eyes. Biting was wrong, that was one of the things he knew was true. But he also knew that he should do whatever his older sister said. She loved him and only had his best interests at heart. His poor little brain was thrown into a state of turmoil.

“Bite me” I urged again. He gently opened up his jaws and placed them around my forearm. “Harder” I said. He applied a bit more pressure on my arm. “Harder” more pressure followed. “Joseph, bite me as hard as you can.” He was now biting me so hard that he was grunting and his head was shaking with the effort.

I left my arm in his mouth for a few seconds. Then I ripped my arm out of his mouth and looked at the perfect imprint of his teeth on my arm. Smiling an evil smirk I turned on the waterworks and went running down the hallway screaming and gingerly holding my wounded arm. “Mom, Joseph bit me!” I wailed. Mom cast a quick glance at my arm, saw the bite mark and stormed off down the hallway to where Joseph was playing peacefully.

He didn’t even see it coming. Mom’s wrath hit him like a ton of bricks. She smacked his hand and took him into the bathroom to wash his mouth out with soap. I watched with a sly grin on my face and some leftover sniffles escaping for show. Mom came in after leaving Joseph crying in his room and came back to attend to me. She brought me some ice and sat with me giving me the attention that I had so longed for.

I used this scam for years. My brother never lost his unwavering trust in me. My mom thought that my brother had a serious biting problem and thought that she shouldn’t send him to preschool because he could be a danger to the other kids. And I never seemed to develop a conscience.