I always wanted a younger sibling

I am the youngest in my family. And by youngest, I mean of 10 total (your's, mine, and ours). I think I might have been an "ah crap, didn't mean to do that!" kind of baby. I'm okay with that. Great people were oopses--Abraham Lincoln was an oops baby. Okay, I just made that up.

As the youngest sibling I filled many duties: an automatic replacement for any room-share arrangement, errand girl for the older kids, dumping ground for all things hand-me-down, that kid with the forgotten name at the end of the list of names my mother spieled out ***"Christy, Ronald, Sandy, Camber...WHAT IS YOUR NAME?"

Being the youngest of the family means you're never cool enough to "hang with the old kids," Santa Claus' true identity is exposed by Kindergarten, your parents' camera was either broken or lost by the time you came along so your childhood isn't documented, and nobody wants to play Barbies or babies with you because it is just so juvenile. Yes, being the youngest isn't all it's cracked up to be--especially when you're left as the only kid in the house with two adults suffering from the widest generation gap known to mankind. (Think hanging with your retired dad all summer long during high school).

But the most frustrating aspect of "baby of the family" status: the stereotypes. Youngest children are only one small step above only children in the hierarchy of that whole birth order hoax. I've actually heard before, "Ah, you're the youngest...that makes sense," spoken much in that same tone as "Ah, you were a cheerleader in high school...that's why I hated you immediately."


So, yes, I am the youngest in my family. And you are?

***Names have been changed to protect the "innocent."