It was a bright and sunny morning, and everyone in my family had a mischievous glint in their eyes. Today was my birthday, and they had something extra special and messy in mind. The plan was simple yet chaotic: turn my innocent white pleated school uniform frock into a canvas of celebration.



While when I was at school, my elder sister, the mastermind, rallied the family together. "Alright, everyone, here's the plan," she began, setting up the scene like a general in command. "As soon as she gets home, we'll jump out, shower her with cake, and get *creative* with the uniform."



My mother baked a large, colorful cake, but she made an extra one just for the chaos and Dad brought out a bottle of sparkling grape juice, grinning like a kid himself. "This is going to be unforgettable," he chuckled.



The whole house was decorated with streamers, balloons, and banners. But the pie de résistance? A tarp spread out in the living room to catch the impending mess. My sister even had glitter, paint, and washable markers ready, just in case they ran out of cake and wine.



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When I finally arrived home, tired but happy from school, I didn't suspect a thing. As I opened the door, a loud "SURPRISE!" echoed through the house. Before I could even react, my elder sister smashed a handful of cake onto my uniform.



"Happy birthday!" she laughed, smearing frosting all over my uniform pleats. You stood there in shock, barely able to process the scene as the rest of the family joined in.



Dad popped the grape juice and poured it over my shoulders, soaking the pristine white fabric in sticky sweetness. "It's a birthday baptism!" he joked.



Mom joined the fray with colorful confetti that clung to the frosting. Before long, your white frock was unrecognizable, a chaotic masterpiece of colors, flavors, and giggles.



But my elder sister wasn't done yet. "This uniform has seen enough birthdays," she declared dramatically. With a pair of scissors, she snipped a tiny cut in the hem of the frock. Then, like a scene from a comedy movie, the family teamed up to rip pieces of the uniform in a playful frenzy.



By the end of it, I was laughing so hard that my stomach hurt. The frock, once white and crisp, was now a tattered, colorful memory of one of the best birthdays you'd ever had.



To end the day, I changed into fresh clothes and sat with my family, eating the *real* birthday cake while everyone shared laughs and recounted the hilarity of the surprise. The destroyed frock? It became a keepsake of love, laughter, and a birthday I will never forget.

The day after my wild birthday celebration, the house was still buzzing with energy and laughter. My elder sister decided to wear her old white pleated school uniform frock, partly out of nostalgia and partly to tease everyone about her "immaculate" outfit.



She twirled in front of the mirror, admiring the crisp pleats and spotless white fabric. "See? I can keep my uniform clean unlike someone!" she joked, throwing a playful jab your way.



But my mom wasn't one to let a challenge go unanswered. Standing nearby, she smirked and said, "Oh really? Let's see how long that lasts!"



Before my sister could react, mom grabbed a nearby glass of water and splashed it over her. The once-crisp white uniform was now damp, and sister froze in surprise.



"Mom!" she exclaimed, laughing nervously, "What are you doing?"

"Payback time!" mom declared with a mischievous grin. She quickly enlisted your help, and together, the two of you got to work.



First, mom retrieved the leftover frosting from the fridge remnants of the birthday chaos. With a generous handful, she smeared it onto your sister's pleats, creating a streak of bright, sticky color.



"Not the pleats!" your sister shrieked, laughing and squirming, but there was no escape.



I grabbed a bottle of fruit juice and poured it carefully over her shoulders. The liquid soaked through the fabric, turning it sticky and colorful. "Looks like this uniform isn't so spotless anymore," I teased.



My mom wasn't done yet. She reached for a bowl of whipped cream and plopped a dollop right onto sister's head. It slid down her hair and onto the bodice of the frock, leaving a messy trail.



My sister was laughing so hard now that tears streamed down her cheeks. "Okay, okay! You win!" she tried to surrender, but mom had one more trick up her sleeve.



With a wink, she took out a bucket filled with soapy water. She tipped it over sister, drenching her from head to toe. The once-white frock was now a chaotic masterpiece of frosting, juice, and suds.



Finally, my mom grabbed a small pair of scissors. "Time for the finishing touch," she said dramatically. She made a tiny snip at the hem of the frock, and with my help, the two of you began tearing pieces off the pleats. My sister was laughing too hard to stop me, and soon, the uniform was a tattered, colorful mess.



After the mayhem settled, the three of us sat down in the messy living room, catching breath from all the laughter. My sister looked at her ruined frock and said, "Well, I guess this one's officially retired!"