From the raised eyebrows I think we were all waiting for the punchline - I'm pretty sure no-one believed her.
"Dad didn't believe she tried to kill me either," she sighed. "But my sister explained she really did, only she slipped on a step and missed my head. Broke my arm though."
While I'm pleased the two of them seem to have worked things out now (Arm has mended. Boy has a gut.), it does make me wonder what the next twenty years has in store for us.
And it's not like we don't have our own family history of poor sibling relationships - I have an uncle whose big toe was chopped off by one of his brothers.
And my own father was no better. Apparently he tried to shoot one of his older brothers when they were kids. Correction: my father didn't try, he DID shoot his older brother.
Story goes, in a time of great need my uncle won a race to the outhouse, so my dad went and got his gun, put a bead on his brother as he stepped out and then, BANG! Right between the eyes.
"You could have killed him!" my Grandma yelled at my dad.
"What the hell do you think I was trying to do?!" my dad yelled back (you know, if he'd gone to jail I might have had two dads).
So far the only really serious disputes we've had to deal with are fights over the Wii (simple, turn it off) and talking during a movie. But then Master19 & Miss16 have polar romantic interests, so competing for boys' attentions hasn't really entered the picture yet.
"My advice," said my work colleague, "is don't have girls less than two years apart. They'll compete for everything."
Well that memo has arrived a bit late, hasn't it?!
I can't do much about the inevitable rivalry, it seems, but I can at least make the weapons scarce. Although now I think I'm putting way too much faith in the fact we live in a house made of wood.