What is the best/cute/funny/playful chat/conversation between brother and sister?

This is one of them. I’ve had many. My older sister Tracy could rattle off false statements so fast it could make your head twirl.

“RJ, don’t believe everything you hear no matter how convincing it sounds,” she said.

“But you’re my sister, why would you lie to me?” I asked.

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“Clause 29 states that if a sister is more than one year older than a younger sibling, that sister can order said sibling to do whatever she wants.”

“It means that if I’m looking after you, and I am because you’re my little brother, I can refer to clause 29 in the Big Sister Little Brother Rules and Regulations.”

She looked at me, “They have their own police force RJ. The BSLBPF, Big Sisters Little Brothers Police Force.”

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“God I hate that smell,” I said.

“Well you must have an awful hairy chest,” I said. Tracy burst out laughing. “So what happens if I don’t listen to you?” I asked.

I was the only one that she would let call her Trace. She’d correct anyone else who did and tell them that her name was Tracy, not Trace.

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She looked at me for a minute, came up and put her arm around me.

She laughed and said, “Well if there is, they should update it.” We finished the job together.

“Well, I’ve to say, you’re pretty darn convincing Trace. I really thought there was a book like that,” I told her.

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“Well since I’m looking after you I’m taking the Big Sister precedence over you,” she said, her eyes still on the TV.

As her younger brother, I was caught in her vocal trap many times. Like this one.

Now, I knew Tracy and Lori had a version of Eidetic Memory and could remember everything they read. “Well what about the Little Brother Older Sister Act of 1925?” I asked her smugly.

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Mom would just close here eyes and leave saying, “Tracy Alexis, I just can’t deal this this right now!”

“That book was never used and the library discontinued it and put it in the dead pile,” she said painting another coating of nail polish on her nails as she watched TV.

“Come on, let’s go and get the plants. It’s not a lie if the teller confesses it was. I was just having fun with you,” she said.

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“WHAT? What does that mean?” I asked her.

“I never heard of that book,” I said.

Okay, so back then I was a gullible kid and believed my sisters. I sighed, got up and walked out of the room. I walked to the garage, grabbed a couple of plants and brought them outside near the shed. I looked around and saw Tracy watching me arms crossed. She came over to me.

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“It’s a big, well worn leather book in the library, The Older Sister Little Brother Act 1925. I’ve read every page. There’s 2033 pages in that book.”

I looked at her. “Why should I do a job that mom said you’re supposed to do?” I asked her.

“She told YOU to do that! I heard her,” I told her.

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“Oh, mom said you have to take the flowers in the garage and put them in the back yard by the potting shed,” she said to me matter of factly.

“It’s good for you. Puts hair on your chest,” she said.

We were sitting on the couch watching TV. Tracy was 15 and I, her younger brother was 13.

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