My childhood was a happy one I'm pleased to say, in spite of all the trials and tribulations my mom had to deal with she always made sure that we were OK - it could not have been easy being a single parent bringing up three boys especially considering the scraps we got into.
Once I inadvertently stepped across the flight path of a dart which lodged itself in my skull. My two brothers followed up by then rolling on the ground hooting in laughter - this is the earliest recollection I have of them trying to kill me.
In retaliation, a few years later I set a mattress on fire while evil sibling #2 was asleep on it. My mother returned to find her 3 pride and joy's dousing the damn thing in the kitchen with buckets of water.
Then there was the time my elder brother, who should have known better, the bastard, removed the brakes off a push bike and got me to try and set a new speed record. I ripped my arm open trying to stop the bloody thing which then required stitches - in the process of being treated I managed to kick the Doctor too.
My younger brother is stubborn sod, we once had to sit on him to try and get him to stop yelling, he didn't, my mom heard the little shit all the way to the top of the road and came hope to rescue him from the two of us.
We used to fight like two rabid dogs, drove my mother nuts. She used to cut whatever we were fighting over in half and give them back to us, we would fight over which half was better.
The last fight was a memorable one, we tried Maters tolerance to such an extent she brought out a cane one day while we were at it and pronounced that the first one to stop would get it. We went at it with gusto but after 15mts were reeling like drunken sailors. I finally got the upper hand by straddling my brother who then bit me on my testicles, ending things for once and for all. We haven't spoken much since then.
Evil brother #1 went on to set my hair on fire a year or so later and to hide the evidence, removed each singed hair by hand. I smelt for days after that and still look like Worzel Gummidge.
Back in the village the "Maha Gedera" is situated on a small hill - I remember it to look so steep in those days, and our biggest fun would be to ride this old tri-cycle down it at breakneck speed. The old house has a "Made Midula" which we used to block up during the rains and turn into a swimming pool, there was nothing so fun as splashing around in that, turning a deaf ear to our gran, and then to sit on a 'Bankuwa' by the 'Dare Lippe' drinking "Koththe malli" wrapped in towels.
"Amma" as we called our grand mother used to have an alms giving every year, for upto 20 priests at a time... this was a high light of the year for us, not only because of all the food but because we used to have awesome pillow fights in the garden, while the cushions were being aired.
I wonder if kids do those things anymore...