MARY ANN FITZMORRIS / L’Observateur / August 7, 1999

Since the beginning of time, boys have enjoyed games to pass the time, and through the many stages of a boy’s life these games change. Marblesand corner baseball and spare lot basketball was what it used to be.

Today’s more affluent kids have shiny uniforms for organized soccer and baseball.

There is one game that has endured through time, regardless of socio- economic class, and I’m convinced it will remain a perennial thriller. Youmay call it something else, but today I’ll dub it Ballistic Sis.

Anyone with more than one child is surely familiar with this game.

Situations change with each round, but the grand finale finish is always the same. Little Sis shrieks so loudly, with such a high pitch, that dogsfor miles around suddenly drop down dead, and mom only wishes she were.

I must try to record that shriek and send it to the Pentagon. Surely itcould be used as a weapon of mass destruction.

Enough of the end of the game. Rules are wide open. Anything that elicitsthe payoff shriek is legal. I have one striking recollection from mychildhood, where my older brother chased me around a complete suburban block with a squirming lizard in hand.

My own children have adopted a more existential version. “His toe istouching me! Tell him to stop!” This exclamation is read by Big Brother as “Yes! I don’t understand the problem, but come on, toe, let’s have some fun!” At that point the toe might as well be welded to little sis’ body.

One day my daughter decided she didn’t like the way my son had just wiggled his finger. That was all he needed; the finger danced the nightaway.

My favorite way out version they did was once my daughter didn’t approve of the way my son said the word green. That’s correct; green. Don’t ask me;if I knew I could usurp Freud. Anyway, after that the very thought of theword green can make me break out in hives.

There are many other variations on the game, including the more common ones, like “He’s looking at me, tell him to stop!! “Tell him to give it back!!” “Tell him to leave my things alone!!” Etc. Etc.This fun pastime is not limited to a boy-girl birth order. I think thegirl-boy birth order could be considered psychological warfare. I feelsorry for the helpless boys at the mercy of twisted Big Sis.

And same sex siblings have their own version of this game. Once I was atthe home of a really swell couple with two boys very close in age. In myperiphery they were engaged in a brawl worthy of a Wild West saloon. Itried to keep myself focused on the conversation, since the parents totally ignored it, but it was so bizarre it became really difficult to concentrate.

I expected the evening to end when departing for the hospital became necessary, but no blood appeared and soon they were playing again as if nothing had happened.

The female version of this is always a surprise, but mothers of girls tell me the cat fight is common. I once picked up my kids from the home of twonice girls and the mother asked me how my kids got along so well.

Before I could answer, her younger daughter came up and her shirt was torn off at the shoulder. The mother explained that the girls had just hadone of their cat fights, and she was amused at the shock on my children’s faces while it was going on. She asked my children to verify the story.They reported hair pulling and screaming and clothes ripping. Mom, almostproudly, explained it was over a candy bar! As I stared at the torn shirt in disbelief, my children offered confirmation.

When we got into the car my son looked at my daughter in some way she didn’t like. It was time to play ballistic Sis. She shrieked. It was musicto my ears.

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