No doubt about it, growing up with siblings makes for a well-rounded individual.  Being the third of four brats has its benefits and drawbacks. I had an older brother constantly threatening my life, an older sister bossing me around, and a little brother I was able to take my frustrations out on.

    Besides the many stories we all have of our childhood, what I find interesting is the different levels of care our parents provided for each kid.

   Paging through our baby books, I find numerous pictures and detailed descriptions of events in the lives of the first two children.  Their books contain strands of hair in an envelope from their first haircut, all the dates on which a first happened and healthy stash of art projects. 

    Glancing through my baby book, the first entry from my dad comes when I was several months old. "I haven’t spent much time updating Laura’s baby book…  Thanks dad.  My book consists of a photo or two of my first day of school, and a few scribbles of my name on the "Signatures" page which I discovered when I was about 7 years old.  I should be thankful – I’m not sure my younger brother even has a baby book.

    What happened?  My little bro and I were obviously not as exciting as the older two.  I can’t help but feel a little ripped off.

    Maybe mom and dad just got sick of kids.  By the time I got around to walking, it was old news. When my younger brother started babbling words, he simply became another talking kid. When we hurt ourselves (or each other), Mom and Dad’s response was anything but sympathetic.

    Whether we "youngins" meant as much to mom and dad is something we obviously dealt with. It wasn’t all bad…the situation had a few advantages. 

     Sure, the "oldies" went on ski trips out West and had fun building sandcastles on the beaches of Florida before we existed, but by the time my little brother and I came along, my parents had seen it all and had become rather lenient.

    We managed to get away with a lot more.  We stayed out later, got worse grades, and did a lot more damage to the house than the older two…

   We’ll call it even.       

Shootin’ the Wit is a weekly column about everyday life that should never, ever be taken too seriously.