When I was a little girl, I remember often sitting on the counter that separated the kitchen from the dining area. What I don't recall is exactly how I got up there. The agility and grace required to jump up to such a place were not qualities I possessed in the least so I think it's safe to assume that I was placed there, probably strategically.
Right around dinner time daily, it became ritualistic for me to run maniacally at my sister Teresa from the other room and scream "BEAR HUG!!" before ramming into her full force. She would generously oblige and then promptly set me on the counter. Her best defense against another attack was stranding me up there because we all know Teresa probably has only one hug in her per day and I filled her quota consistently. Unfortunately, her efforts to fend me off were usually thwarted by a more severe and painful result of me being on the counter. When perched there, my Frankenstein forehead reached exactly the middle point of her nose. And for reasons I conveniently don't recall, I may or may not have bonked her repeatedly on her perfect schnoz with my monstrous cranium.
I'm sorry Teresa, that your would-be straight nose is now slightly bent. And that you probably don't have full use of it mostly due to my childhood games.