Orange Slices

Oranges are healthy and nutritious snacks for growing children. At age 7, I didn't really like oranges. My sister, Michelle, and my cousin, Dylan, loved oranges, and they were 6. At that age we were all babysat by our grandmother everyday over the summer until school started up again. Each day, we stayed at my grandmas from about 5a.m. to 4p.m. and for some reason, there were always oranges in her house. While we played I was always the older one, the "boss," because I was bigger. They did everything I told them to. I took advantage of them. I abused the respect they had for me, and I was well aware of it.

It was a summer day; my sister, Michelle, and cousin, Dylan, and I ran from inside and outside, in and out of the house all day. At my grandma's, my uncle had just painted the wall on the side of the house a few days before, and it really stood out from the others. It was so fresh and perfect, almost too perfectly clean; it practically seemed unfit in such a dirty, kid ridden backyard.

Just a few days after the wall had been painted, we were outside, unsupervised of course, eating a bowl full of oranges my grandma had cut up for us. Although, I remember I did not eat any oranges, because at that age, I was very picky, and I refused to eat them. After we finished, Michelle, and Dylan went back to playing, and I sat, and supervised. I sat there, and watched as the lifeless oranges went limp, and got dark black and green spots in the warm sun as gnats swarmed them; however, the oranges actually looked kind of cool. I picked up an orange and accidentally dropped it on the concrete, and I noticed the stain it left. Then, it hit me. Why don't Michelle, Dylan, and I redecorate? In all of our little schemes, I was always the ringleader, but I never did the dirty work, so of course I never got in trouble. My grandmother threatened to punish us with her slipper, but I was never afraid of her because she was always so sweet. I always knew I was going to get away with everything because I never actually did anything.

"Hey guys want to do something fun?" I recall saying every time before I set them up for a scheme, or as we called it, a "sneaky sneak." Of course Michelle and Dylan agreed. "Wait, will we get dirty?" asked Dylan. He was afraid of getting messy, because he hated taking baths. "What do I have to do now?" my sister chimed in. She was the youngest, so she had to do most of the work, but she got away with most of it too. At 6 and 7 years old we were mindful of our actions, but never the consequences of them. "How about we take some oranges and sponge paint the new wall?" I suggested. I could see they were both a little hesitant at first by the look on their faces, but I picked up an orange and said "like this!" and I threw it right in the middle of the wall. We all watched it stick then slide down slowly, leaving behind a trail of sticky,

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