For those of you who were not acquainted with me as a child, I was bananas. Unlike my personality today, I was extremely outgoing, eccentric, and hyperactive. Oftentimes, this behavior would lead me into trouble. I needed constant supervision, and this detail was often assigned to my older sisters. However, on rare occasions I would slip away undetected and raise havoc.
On one such day, my sisters, Jessica, Allison, and Emily were on guard duty, while my parents were attending a local wedding. They had been absorbed watching television for some time when Jessica suddenly perceived I was not present. She voiced her concerns out loud, and Emily replied that I was upstairs playing with my dolls. Jessica, being naturally suspicious of my antics, quickly leapt up the stairs to check on me.
When she discovered I was not in my room, she went into search mode. Only seconds later, she noticed the bathroom door was closed. Finding the door locked, she asked me to open the door. However, I decided to babble nonsensically instead. Realizing I was no help, Jessica grabbed Allison. They magically turned into Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson and attempted to pick the lock with a bobby pin. All the while, I was screaming at the top of my lungs. They finally got the door open after a good five minutes, but in that seemingly short time I, like a pint-sized Ares, had declared war on the bathroom. What they beheld next made them gasp in disbelief.            
There I was in the middle of the bathroom, naked and covered in poop from head to toe. The walls and rugs were streaked liberally with defecation, but the best part was the floor. In the center of the room was an extremely large circle made entirely of fecal matter. I had gone “number two,” but for some odd reason, I had forgotten how to clean my butt. Instead, I had decided to simply wipe my derriére across all the surfaces of the room. My butt was the paintbrush and the entire bathroom my canvas.
After surveying the horrific scene, Jessica ran to call our parents. Unfortunately, she did not have the good sense to call Mom. My dad is not known for his sympathetic nature. The encouragement she received from Dad was this, “You better have it all cleaned up before we get back!” 
Anger written all over her face, she manhandled me into the bathtub. She sprayed me square in the face with the water, taking whatever revenge she could grasp. I needed extensive cleaning because not only had I gotten poop all over my body, but in my hair as well. Poor Jessica was just trying not to vomit from the acrid fumes. Meanwhile, Emily and Allison were laughing raucously outside the door, safe from the putrid odor. After five intense minutes of rough scrubbing, I was exiled to my room for timeout. There, when she needed a break from washing the poop-covered towels, rugs, walls, and floors, my sister would periodically check in on me.
I guess you could say the moral of the story is that you should never underestimate someone, especially if they are your moronic, deranged, younger sister. As soon as you attempt to do such a thing, your bathroom will be covered in poop, and you will have to clean it up. However, if you work hard, you can almost always remedy the situation and survive the wrath of your parents.