The Anti-Christ
My cousins lived in the same town as us and were 7 and 9 years older than me (and therefore even older in relation to my younger sister). I effing loved my cousins, I mean, they gave me their Kylie tapes when she was no longer cool enough for them and even a punched through straw hat so I could be a miniature slightly-behind-the-times version of Kylie myself. They were awesome. They loved me too because although I was a precocious knob, I was always trying to be exceedingly grown-up and therefore always behaved impeccably when they baby-sat. My sister, however, had other ideas.

Nowadays, it would probably be diagnosed as ADHD, but back then, it was just being a little shit. She would famously get herself into all kinds of trouble and scrapes and would eat and chew anything, regardless of whether or not it was nailed down. Or even vaguely edible. I learnt the phrase ‘Anti-Christ’ as that was how they used to describe her. I think this one day in the summer holidays almost justifies that expression.

This was to be an all-day babysitting extravaganza. I was probably about 9, making my sister 7. Things started off smoothly enough, in fact I think we even got to lunchtime without too much palaver. There was a bit of fuss about what she would eat, but nothing too extraordinary. After lunch things get a bit more extreme. Firstly, something set her off laughing. This should be fine, what is more delightful than the laughter of children, right? WRONG. She had a terrible (yet retrospectively hilarious) habit of freezing up when hysterical and then wetting herself. This she proceeded to do – all over the leather settee. My cousins were pretty horrified, as 14 - 16 year old girls would be, at having to chase the rivers of wee all over it trying to mop them up.

I can’t remember what led up to the next episode, but it involved sis having a tantrum and locking herself in the upstairs bathroom – then she opened the window, shouting down at us on the patio. The next thing we know, she has flung the key far up the garden into the not-recently-mowed lawn. A frantic search finally located the key and she was duly released. Suitably mollified (or so we thought) she went to play down in the study at the front of the house (then the playroom) while I stayed with the cousins in the lounge talking about terribly grown up things (probably Kylie). Things had been suspiciously quiet for a while and one of us went to check on her – to be greeted by the sight of an open window and no rampaging brat to be seen. Panic ensued – how long had she been gone? Was she dead? Etc .

As it turns out, no. She had escaped and run up the road to a friend’s house. We found this out when the friend’s mother knocked on the door a few minutes later, to, of all things, investigate my sister’s claims of abuse! I think that was pretty much the last straw for them and I can’t recall them ever babysitting for us again, and to be honest I’m not surprised. What is surprising is that sister has grown up to be just about the coolest person ever with almost no trace of the demented demon-child she once was. Hurrah!
(Sinister Carp doesn't mind the gap, Wed 3 Nov 2010, 16:30, Reply)