Having a baby sister is probably one of the worst things that ever happened to my sister and brother.  They both agree I was spoiled and got out of doing a lot of dirty work because I was the baby.  I’m not sure if they’ve ever thought about the fact that I didn’t choose our birth order.  It just happened and there was nothing any of us could do to change it.

Holding the youngest spot wasn’t glamorous all the time.  I don’t remember my brother or sister reminiscing about the “spit” baths mom used to give them.  I love my mother but being bathed in her spit was something I wish I could forget.  I don’t remember them saying they got their chubby little cheeks pinched a gazillion times followed by several thousand pinches on their arms due to the fact that they were just so darn soft.  I don’t remember them having bouts of uncontrollable blushing when they were in high school when they were introduced to people as their mother’s baby.  All of these things happened to me and very early on I decided I had two choices.  I could let it consume me and turn me into what felt like one of those furry little monkeys on a stick you dream of buying at the circus or I could learn to just embrace my existence and be thankful I had a mother that loved me as much as she did and still does.

I must say my circumstances definitely contributed to the early development of a very good sense of humor.  It came in very handy.  I used it when I got bored.  I used it when I knew I was getting the best of my siblings and I often used it instead of crying when appropriate.  I learned rather quickly that it was a bit more effective than crying when attempting to diffuse volatile situations I found myself wandering into.   I did try crying first a number of times before switching to the “laughter” approach.  I’m not sure why older siblings find it necessary to have some sort of control over the baby but mine did and the only thing they accomplished was teaching me that it was okay to give into temptation.  Below is an example of that irresistible temptation I gave in to.

For some reason my sister would never let me sit on her bed.  (I’m betting you can see how this is going to play out.)  When she was gone and I knew she was gone, I would walk across our bedroom floor, stop when I reached her bed, turn myself around and sit.  I’m not sure what I expected but no music played, no stuffed animals came to life, no glitter fell from the ceiling but temptation got an early grip on me and there I sat.  I’m not sure how, but she could always tell when I did this and when she yelled at me, it was then, I learned to laugh.  One would think this would ignite more intense anger but it actually didn’t.  It didn’t until the day I chose to call my sister something I heard on Saturday Night Live.  Dan Aykroyd and Jane Curtain would do a news bit and Dan would repeatedly call Jane a name consisting of two words.  I was probably 12 at the time and quite naive and I had no idea what it meant but the audience would always laugh.  I decided it had to be pretty hilarious so one day I decided to do a little Dan Aykroyd impersonation.  I was prepared to share a ton of laughter with my sister and it was then and only then, I called her an “ignorant slut.”  It was obvious, she knew what this meant.  Time slipped into slow motion.  There was no laughter.  I don’t think I found out that day what it meant but I found out it didn’t pertain to my sister and the fact that she let me live still remains a mystery.

Little sisters mean well.  Little sisters torment their older siblings but when little sisters grow up, they realize just how blessed they are to have a big sister and big brother to love.