I actually asked my mom about this one. She said I really didn't get into that much trouble as a child. She told me that I often would follow right behind my brothers though, because I didn't know any better. There was a story that still gets told of Thomas and I. We decided we wanted apples to snack on. So Thomas thought we should get the sharp knives out of the kitchen drawer, so I copied him. Mom told us she was busy doing laundry, and after she finished, she would come back downstairs and peel and cut them for us. Thomas cut his hand, and then me. Then he made up a story of how the carpet tacks on the stairwell got his hand. He told me I had to make up a different story. He was a good liar, I was not, I was still innocent. We both ended up with stitches in our hand, and I still have the scar to prove it. Mom took us to the hospital. Apparently while we were there, at the young ages of 3 and 1. The nurse asked my mom if we were fighting. That's a laugh...but I guess you never know what shows up at the clinic.