#attack children

Day 28 Ride

Day 9 Swing

Day 15 Legend

Day 1: Ring

So guys. I beat up a girl when I was in preschool. It happened like this: 

You know how in kindergarten and shit they have this fascination with making the kids line up before they let them back in from recess? Yeah. I have no idea why that's necessary, but whatever. When you're six or so you don't really give a shit why adults do the stuff they do; you just go along with it. Anyway. So I'm in preschool and we're all lined up to get back inside and I decide I want to go stand with my friends.

So I go to the front of the line to stand with them, and there's this fourth grader behind me and she's like...

"Hey! No cutting!" (Remember this phrase? Dear lord.) And, being the sad, vulnerable little kindergartner I was, I promptly started crying. 

Something you should know at this point is my sister and I have always been very close. She's a year and a half older than me and no matter what, we always have each other's backs. When people were mean to her, I defended her. Always. And when people were mean to me, she defended me. It's always been like that and always will. No one messes with the one of the Schenberger sisters unless they want to experience some serious RAGE.

In this particular instance, my sister was in line a ways behind us and she saw me crying, identified the source of my sadness, and marched to the rescue. Before the fourth grader even knew what hit her, my kindergartner sister had her arms pinned behind her back. Now, you'd think at this point I would have considered the fourth grader properly punished for her meanness and I would stand with my friends like a good girl. But no. I've always had a white-hot temper and no qualms about using it. In my little scheming preschool mind, it was time for my revenge. As soon as I saw my antagonizer was immobilized, I began kicking her in the shins like a madwoman.

Our victim cried and screamed and struggled to get away, but it was no use; my sister had her in a lockdown from which there was no escape, and as Carolyn held my target still, I pummeled her with my little feet of fury until the teachers heard the screaming and ran to separate us.

My mom was at work when she got a call from the school. It was the principal, who very gravely explained how her two miniscule preschool-age daughters beat up a girl twice their size. Of course, my mom busted up laughing.

"This is a VERY serious situation, Mrs. Schenberger," the principal admonished, shocked. My mother struggled to control herself. 

"I'm sorry. You're right. Sorry," she giggled.

"Are you ready to speak to your daughters?"

"Yes, yes. Put them on the phone." There was a rustle as the phone exchanged hands.

"Hi mommm..." my sister and I said glumly. Our mother responded in a voice of utter seriousness and gravity.

"Girls, violence is not the answer. Use your words."