Right before my sister’s life flashed before her eyes, I was busy eating string cheese. My first thought was “Please let her not be hurt. Mom’s so gonna give me a time-out.” I woke up that morning as any normal five-year old, to my baby sister’s terrorizing cries per usual. Today was a special day, because my mom promised me I could play with my best friend Olivia as long as I made my bed. After a few agonizing minutes of dealing with my crumpled sheets, pillows became my enemy and I made up my mind to never sleep again. A delicious aroma of pancakes wafted into my room, and I could feel my taste buds perking up and my mouth watering. I skipped down the stairs in my favorite pink dress, humming the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse theme song. The next few hours of my Saturday consisted of watching tv and playing dress-up and make-believe with my favorite Barbies and teddy-bears. I decided that it was time for a snack, so I went to my mom and asked her for some animal crackers and apple juice.

Just then, the phone rang. My mom answered the phone and turned away to muffle out the sounds of me and my sister’s ruckus. I then decided that I could wait no longer for my snack. I began to raid the fridge. My sister had climbed onto the countertop, so my mom let her sit there while she talked on the phone. My sister was calling my name to play with her, while I was busying myself with the string cheese. The next thing I knew it, my sister tumbled down from the countertop. Her pacifier rolled next to my foot. In slow motion, her soft and chubby baby skin bounced on the cold linoleum. I heard a soft thud but I simply ignored her. One minute she was sitting on the countertop and the next she was laying on the smooth kitchen tile screaming. The worst part was, she didn’t start crying immediately. I did not know what had happened and assumed that it was because her pacifier. I told her that I would rinse it and give it back to her once I got my food. After all, I knew my sister always cried. I thought that all babies could do was cry.

Once I realized the severity of what had actually occurred, everything began to happen in slow motion. Her face was scrunched up so tightly and her mouth opened slowly, so you knew that something was wrong. I was so worried that she was hurt and I knew my mom would give me a time-out. I had waited so long for my play-date that I couldn’t possibly miss it. I made up my mind at that moment that no matter what, this silly baby would not ruin my life more than what she had already done. I tried to soothe her by whispering lullabies to her in an attempt to calm her down. My attempts obviously were of no avail, and by then my mom had finished her phone call. The minute she stepped into the kitchen, she freaked out. She was so mad at me for not being more careful and responsible around my sister that I wasn’t allowed to have my play-date. I was a petty five-year-old, furious that I lost my playdate, all because of this dumb baby who could have gotten badly injured. She wasn’t even injured, which was a miracle, but my mom still grounded me. I clenched my teeth and glared at my mom with narrow eyes. My hands closed into tight fists and I stormed away to my bedroom, making each footstep louder and heavier than the next. All of a sudden, I was the one who was crying. I was just so frustrated over this playdate. After all, when you’re five, getting grounded from a playdate is basically the end of your world. Now, we look back upon this as a fun family memory. Till this day, my sister still falls down a lot. It’s okay, because at least now I’ll never get in trouble for it again.