Once a baby of the family, always the baby of the family
I’ll never forget the day one of my older sisters, I have three, cornered me in the dining room when I was 18, freshly home from college on Christmas break, and said, “Mom wants to stop doing stockings.” “Yeah,” I said, in the habitually defensive tone I save for my older siblings. “Why are you telling me?” “Well,” she said, “She’s worried you will be upset.” As ridiculous as this sounds, I was a bit upset. I was, after all, the baby of the family. Once the baby, always and forever shall be… the baby.