Brian was two years old. I was seven years old. My aunt was visiting and everyone was happy and everything was going well. My mother told me to watch Brian. I did not want to watch him. I wanted to go out and play with my friends. I sat at one end of the table brooding and not really paying attention. My aunt was on the other side of the table ironing some shirts. Brian was climbing back and forth entertaining himself. My aunt left the iron on the table and left. I did not notice this. Brian somehow climbed under the iron chord and pulled the iron down on his back. He was only two. The iron covered his entire back. The kid screamed like he was dying. My skin crawled as I had a first row seat to this pain. I was very upset. My aunt came running, but it was too late. The iron had fallen on Brian’s back and the damage was done. He was rushed to the hospital emergency room. He was gone a long time. This was not a life threatening emergency, but it was very painful for Brian. It was devastating for me being there watching this happen. I was very scared. My aunt told me it was not my fault. Of course, I blamed myself. Of course, I cried. When my little brother and parents finally came home, it was a very tense situation. They came home and blamed me and told me it was my fault because I had been left in charge of him while this happened. I was sent to my room. It took me years to realize this incident was not my fault. I blamed myself for a long time. Brian still has a scar on his back from the iron incident. I try really hard not to feel guilty when this is brought up. It was nobody’s fault. It was an accident. Accidents happen in childhood. I was made to feel like it was my fault and this was just a terrible thing to do to me. When this incident is brought up now in my family discussions, it is still considered my fault. I have to defend myself and say this is crazy. I was seven. It was not my fault.