Sour War Heads

Most people would consider a small baby, still helplessly laying behind the bars of a crib, adorable. I think, though being the youngest this is just speculation, that older sisters think differently about their little baby siblings. I suppose at this time I wasn't exactly the baby, and the excitement of my cuteness (and perhaps even my cuteness itself) had worn off, at least temporarily. My sister Sarah, along with our foster sister Crystal (slightly older than Kara), had found my vulnerability a perfect opportunity for entertainment. This they ceased with excitement.  They lurked into my room while I was lying awake in my crib, and they put a sour war head in my mouth. Knowing them, they probably chose the yellow ones, too. They did it simply to watch me hold on to the edge of my crib and shake as the sour taste penetrated my tongue. My lips pursed together like a fish and my big eyes opened as far as they could go. It does sound like a funny picture; I don't blame them.

This action they continued throughout the younger years of my life. There were even instances that I remember rolling around on the floor while Sarah and Crystal stood over me laughing hysterically. Sometimes The Neighborhood Girls would come over and Sarah would pop one in my mouth to show off how awesome and hilarious her little sister was. I was pretty awesome, I suppose. But as all things do, it faded as I grew old enough to realize they were laughing at me. I was half offended and half just really wanted to impress them with my funniness, therefore becoming significantly less funny. On the bright side, though, I built up a very high tolerance for sour things and can now eat lemons without making the embarrassing squinty face normal people do... most of the time.

But now that I think of this, I wonder about the logistics of the whole situation. Did Sarah and Crystal save up their penny change in order to buy a weekly bag of War Heads to feed to their little sister? Did my parents get tricked into buying bags for them? Maybe it wasn't as often as their retelling of the stories made it seem.

I'm told that their devious plans were often at my expense. But I'm sure my reactions were priceless, and I don't blame them for taking advantage of me. I do the same things to my friend's siblings sometimes. It's the nature of being older than someone else.