When I was a little girl, about eight years old, I saw a movie (I forget the title – was it “A Perfect World”?) in which the guy stood in front of a little boy, put his hands through his own legs and held the little boy’s hands, and pulled him so he flipped up and over and landed on his feet. I thought this was most awesome. So, in all my intelligence, I decided it would be a good idea to replicate the trick with my best friend’s younger sister, who must have been about six years old. (Beautiful little Korean thing, I was enthralled by her.) I stood in front, put my hands through my legs, held her hands, and tugged sharply. Momentarily her head hit SMACK right down on the hard floor. A massive bruise started to swell on her forehead. She was in tears. She had to go home early. I thought she was going to die. She turned out to be OK, but I thought I’d killed her or brain-damaged her. I couldn’t sleep for weeks due to nightmares. Perhaps I shouldn’t have brought up the memories.
