This one in particular reminds me of a meteor!
Do you think its an omen?
The other bruises don't really have similarly interesting stories to tell, although they do hurt just as much. They are a virtual cornucopia of colours -- or like a rainbow if you are looking for a more mundane expression. Perhaps I could say that they are like skittles? Once when my sister, C, and I were both quite little, I told her that a bruise on her leg looked like a hot dog with ketchup, mustard and relish... and then proceeded to poke it. Another time I seem to recall telling her that bruises were actually called 'hurt-buttons' followed by .. .*gasp!*... more poking. Seems like I was perhaps not as benevolent a child as I would like to believe I was.
Although I like to believe that I was actually a sweet child, and very good to my little sister, she is a very meticulous person and has been keeping track of the mean things I have done to her over the years. The vast majority of which were between age 7 and age 12 or 13 I believe. Apparently, after that I mellowed out a little. For the record: I don't believe that I was ever intentionally mean to either of my sisters. I will admit however that I did sometimes play jokes that I thought C and I would both find funny, but which in the end left C crying and me in trouble.
The one I am most embarrassed about happened right at the edge of that upper age range, because I know it happened after we moved to Newfoundland from Nova Scotia. We moved when I was 11, although I'd like to say I was younger than that when I had such poor judgement, its just not true. On this particular occasion, as I was getting ready to go to bed at night, I noticed that C -- who was also getting ready for bed -- was not in her room, but in the bathroom brushing her teeth with the door closed. This meant that she could not see me as I stole into her room under the cover of darkness and situated myself hidden beneath her bed. Quiet as a mouse, I waited for the tooth-brushing to finish so I could hatch my devious plot. It really was devious -- here's why. I was very careful to make no noise as C walked into the room and got into her bed. I continued to wait quitely while my parents came in to say goodnight, and walked out closing the door behind them. I stayed quieter still as I listened while my sister's breathing slowed. Just as I knew that she was on the edge of sleep, I reached up and around, without even breathing so I could not be heard and tickled her in the small of the back!
Needless to say, my sister was screaming halfway down the stairs to the kitchen and the safety of my parents before I even really knew what had just happened. Having intended to startle her, but not really scare her, the minute she started to cry, I also burst into tears. I almost cried writing this story, I still feel so bad about it. My sister has never really quite forgiven me for it either. Not that I can say I would feel any different if the situation were reversed.