I was about 3, Brother Cow was 5. Mama Cow drew a bath for us and then had to grab more towels from the bedroom. While she was gone . . .
He cheerfully explained to me what it was.
My parents had (unwisely) instilled between us a rule which was: I was smaller, therefore Brother Cow should give all his shit to me. To this day, I don’t know what they expected was going to happen other than them raising a daughter with the selflessness of Voldemort and the patience of Genghis Khan.
As was my habit, I reached out and grabbed my prize with much excitement and enthusiasm.
Thus ensued much screaming and wailing. On the part of my brother. On my part, I was silently thinking what a selfish bastard he was for not giving his birdie to me.
And that was how I nearly ripped my brother’s penis off.