I think that happens with the youngest. We just think of the last as the baby, always. The babies of families are forever being hauled around to the older kids’ stuff. They have to learn to fit in to all the other members of the family’s activities. (I can remember trying to time dropping off Michael at first grade in between Rebecca’s feedings and nap times. Thanks to Atlanta traffic, my timing rarely worked out.) But that little baby who sat through countless carpools and piano recitals and soccer/volleyball/basketball games and whose naps were taken in the car more often than her crib has grown into a lovely young woman.
That lovely young woman will probably not be thrilled that I'm writing about her. But her computer is in the shop, so I may get a pass on this one.
Happy birthday, Rebecca! I love you!
Rebecca's first birthday