Part of the 30-Day Challenge, Day 5.

For the first two years of my life, I was an only child.  I don’t actually remember any of it, so I can’t wax poetic about the glory days or anything.  Although, there are lots of pictures of me being doted on by many, many adults in my first two years of life.  (I was also the first grandchild on both sides of the family–a coveted position for an infant to be in!)

Then I got a brother.  And four years later, a baby sister.  And you know what, life’s been pretty good ever since.

My siblings and I tend to fall into (mild) versions of birth order clichés. I’m the super-responsible oldest child, always eager to please.  My brother is the mild-mannered middle child–who also played the role of big brother who relentlessly teases you very well where my younger sister was concerned (they pretty much left me out of it, as I sat in a corner somewhere reading a book through most of my childhood).  And my sister is more of a free-spirit than either my brother or I.

But despite our differences, we’re close.  We really, genuinely enjoy each other’s company and look forward to the time we get to spend together. There’s something about siblings, the people who share all of your history and know your past and love you anyway, that is like no other relationship.

I’m glad I didn’t stay an only child.  Life would be so much more boring.