No Violent Poking, Please

I just nearly got my eye poked out by my brother, and here he is, wounded because he thinks I don't trust him just because I tried to evade his unruly harrassment! Well, what would YOU do if your great hulking brother was jumping up and down lunging at you like a giant golden retriever from across the table, yelling at you to be still while he picked something off your face? I honestly thought he was going to pinch my nose. I would think that would be an undesirable situation for anyone, and that any normal person would do everything possible to escape it. As any sane person might, I escaped and took refuge in the bathroom. He chased me. "Just be still! You have something on you face! Just...Cassie! You don't TRUST me?!"

Trust him? TRUST him? Of course I trust him, in general life or death matters, that is. But to pick things off my face? We're talking about the kid who once put a pinch of grated cheese in his mouth, slobbered all over it, took it out of his mouth, and shoved it violently into mine! I reminded him of that.

"Cassie!" he wailed, "That was FIVE YEARS AGO! Talk about bearing a grudge!" I'm not bearing a grudge. To think. I don't hold grudges; I've forgiven him. But who wouldn't be a little skiddish about violent facial attacks after an atrocity like that?

Now my whole family thinks I'm some kind of paranoid freak, just because I don't like getting poked in the face. I feel like an alien in my own house! I said, "Well, what would YOU do if somebody were jumping around in your face and you thought they were going to pinch your nose while the whole time they kept insisting they just wanted to pick something off your face?" (And to fully understand the situation you really have to know my prankster brother) Dad said, "I'd say thank you." Ok, well, he's bigger than I am. And bigger than Connor. And bigger than most people would want to pick lint off his face, therefore quite able to defend himself from unwarranted nose-pinching. But, then, Mom and Mattie agreed! Ack!

Connor was crushed in spirit, and kept insisting that I didn't trust him, which I didn't think was true. He's a great brother. If I didn't trust him, I wouldn't be willing to get in the car with him when he drives. (But I am.) And really, the touchy-feely stuff is wonderful...but do we have to get violent about it? A little warning is all I ask. Maybe slow motion would be good. :)

P.S. For the record, Connor has never pinched my nose, or attempted to do so, to my memory (which, as you may have noticed, is uncommonly keen when it comes to such aggrievances).