Joah was crying, as usual. I probably should have thought about that before I pushed him. His wails were bouncing themselves downstairs, I knew Mommy would come up and ask what happened. I couldn’t let her know I was a little devil or I’d never be able to take toys from my brothers again and get away with it. All it took was a, “Oh he bumped his head” or “He stubbed his toe”, and I could get away with anything. The little suckers couldn’t stand up for themselves, so it was my job to interpret their sobs into something beneficial to me. I was a very clever five year old.

So being as smart as I was, I decided the best thing to do was carry my one year old brother down the stairs to Mommy and act concerned. Obviously if I hurt him I wouldn’t go through all the trouble of taking him downstairs to her. Like I said, I was very intelligent. So I picked up the pathetic child and ambled over to the stairs. He was heavier than I thought but I was sure I could get him downstairs just fine.

However, I was only two steps into my journey down the stairs when karma decided to literally kick my butt. My foot slid and I tumbled head first down the stairs. Whether by reflex, cleverness, or the love I’d pretended I’d never had for Joah, at five years old I knew I needed to protect my brother’s precious baby head. So instead of covering my head from the wooden landing rushing towards us, I wrapped my arms around Joah and curled my body around his so there was no way he could get hurt. Yes, I was sacrificing myself for the little insect that I’d been trying to squish since it had magically popped out of Mommy a year ago.

The light green carpet slid against my skin and I closed my eyes, anticipating the wooden floor against my skull. It finally came and I’m sure karma was sitting back with popcorn, pleased that I’d gotten what I’d deserved, which happened to be a concussion.

Like I had planned, Mommy was too distracted by the fact I’d carried, or rather, slid, Joah down the stairs to realize I’d pushed him a minute ago. Joah was fine after recovering from the shock of his hateful sister hugging him while giving him a free ride down the stairs. Maybe I would finally be the sister of his dreams. Hah, yeah right.

Unfortunately for me, about half an hour into my day of kindergarten, I ended up puking. So I got my first CAT scan, first concussion, and a great story to tell my family MANY years later. The moral: karma really is a b****, even to five-year-olds.