A Sleepover With Aunt Stephanie
“Glen, can you press ‘Play’ for me,” Casey said, and I leaned across from the couch, and pushed the button on the CD player. Immediately, the room was filled with the sound of a crappy rap song, as my sister began to rehearse her latest baton twirling routine, for the fiftieth time. Okay, maybe it wasn’t the fiftieth time, but it seemed like it. There are only a certain number of times you can watch a skinny twelve-year old girl prancing around, throwing a baton in the air and catching it, and still stay interested, but I sat there dutifully, watching Casey spinning, gyrating and jumping in time with the music, in her bright lime green practice leotard, and silver shimmer tights, and a couple of rather wicked thoughts crossed my mind, firstly, If she …