I was a bad, bad girl.

When I was six, my grandmother died. A year later, my grandfather remarried. For years, we didn't like my stepgrandmother or her grown kids or our new cousins but this wasn't their fault. We had a crazy aunt whispering in our ears and driving a wedge between Us and Them.*

But there was one stepcousin that did drive us a little crazy all on her own, and by "us", I mean me and my cousin Erika. We were the oldest and the boss of everyone. We decided the games we played, who got to be what in the game and what the rules were. It was good to be queen. This didn't sit right with the one cousin that we'll name "Jane." She didn't get the rule about the oldest cousins getting to be the boss of everything and she constantly tattled. Drove us nuts and we hated playing with her. My grandfather and my cousin Erika's family shared the same property so sometimes Erika and I would be playing, Jane's family would show up to visit Pawpaw, and here would come Jane, wanting to tag along.

One day we saw her coming and figured we'd fix her good. Quickly, we used our powers for evil and hatched a diabolical plan. When Jane reached us and wanted to play, we told her the game of the day was "house". I was the dad, Erika was the mom, and Jane would be the teenage daughter who had a date with a cute boy that night. We told her she had to primp, fix her hair, put on her invisible make up, and oh, yeah...she needed some perfume. What to do, what to do? Oh, perfect solution! Just pick some of those leaves on that stump over there and rub them all over. Yeah, on your neck, behind your ears, definitely get those wrists...

Because poison ivy smells great.

We're going to hell.

In our defense, Erika and I weren't allergic to the stuff and didn't know how bad it could really be. We thought it was more like itching powder. We learned differently when Jane showed up at church swollen like the Elephant Man. And we thought our dads would be impressed by our creativity. Which they were, if you count whipping us and grounding us forever as being impressed. My behind for sure was impressed.

Sorry, "Jane."

I realize some of you can't be my blog friends anymore, and I understand. But this is nothing compared to the time Erika turned "Jane" loose in a yellow jacket nest, so I really think I should get a pass in light of being slightly less evil. Hi, Erika.

*P.S. We're all BFFs and stuff now, so it's fine. And my Grandma Helga totally rocked and so do my two aunts and uncle. I just didn't know that when I was, like, eight.