The Day the Gypsies Tried to Take Us

My sister Kelly and I are 4 1/2 years apart in age, with me being the oldest.  Poor Kelly often got "mistreated" by me if you ever listened to the comments our mother made when the two of us were grown and telling some of the stories about our "adventures".  I refuse to believe this but will let you all judge for yourselves throughout this blog.  There will be several stories about our "formative" years so enjoy :)

As a child I was always afraid that someone was going to come to our house and steal us if we were alone or if I was babysitting.  It was nothing for me to hit the ground and army crawl to the window if the neighbor kids knocked on the door and wanted to play.  You never knew where there would be a band of roving gypsies looking for a pudgy girl with a pixie cut and a cutie patootie red headed doll!  I mean who wouldn't want the pair of us?  Kelly, definitely--but I was the pudgy pixie haired girl and I don't think that I would have sold at a K-Mart Blue Light Special!

Anyway, one day I was babysitting for Kelly and as was customary I was submitting her to hair styling torture.  I fancied myself as the next Vidal Sassoon.  Kelly was my hair model.  Poor thing would stand until she couldn't stand any more as I put long "boing-boing" curls in her waist length hair.  When she got too tired do you think I quit????  NO.  I made her sit on the toilet backwards--that is definitely what any great hairdresser would do.  We were in the middle of a hair session when someone banged on the front door.  I dropped the curling iron, dropped to the ground and told her to "HIDE"!  Making my way slowly down the hall (army crawling all the way) I looked for danger.  When I finally got to the door there was no one there.  Gypsies must not be very patient.  I headed back to the bathroom to continue our hair torture styling session.  Kelly was gone.  Not behind the shower curtain or the door--not across the hall in her bedroom--I was starting to freak out.  How did someone get in to steal her while I was stealthily crawling the hall????  I started yelling for her.  All of a sudden I saw the top of the little clothes hamper start to pop open and a tiny red head slicked with sweat poked out.  Poor Kelly had hidden in there so that she would be safe and almost sweat to death.  It is amazing that either of us turned out reasonably sane.  It is also amazing that Kelly didn't start shaving her head as soon as she had the chance. 

For those of you that are wondering:
1.  We were never stolen by gypsies. (Must have been my ninja like reflexes.)
2.  I am not the next Vidal Sassoon (I even have short hair.)
3.  Kelly and I ARE still on speaking terms.