When I was in the fourth grade my Dad was stationed in Fayetteville, NC. My "little" brother (who's now about six inches taller than me) was in kindergarten and hell on wheels. I was still at the point in life that I pretty much had no use for him (this lasted until I went away to college for the most part).
Before you think what a horrible person I was for not liking my brother, let me explain that until I was six years old I was the ONLY grandchild on both sides of the family. I was, admittedly, spoiled rotten and I'm fairly certain both sets of grandparents thought I walked on water. During my sixth year, four terrible things happened. My brother was born, one aunt had a son and another had twin boys. I remained the only granddaughter for another six years, but had lost my only grandchild status to four little boys.
Anyway, back to the story. As most big sisters are want to do, I loved tormenting my brother, and sadly he was so gullible. When it was raining outside or we couldn't find anyone else to play with we sometimes found ways to amuse ourselves. I discovered that I could pretend to be two people around him. I convinced him that I was twins : ) I'd be in his room playing and then leave, change shirts or something, come back and introduce myself as my twin. I'd do this a few times until I got bored with it, but he actually believed me for a little while. Great fun.