Baby Brother and Sister Days

I was born June 9, 1955 and my sister, Carol, was born October 3, 1956.  For those counting, that's a gap of just under sixteen months.  I guess they figured it out, and then when they got both a boy and a girl, well, that's all she wrote.

I had more hair than her.  It was a very long time before she caught up.

I had some bad-ass rosy cheeks.  Yeah, I was a cute baby.  I can't explain what happened later.

I think my Mom had to hold me back, as it looked like I was ready to zoom out of the picture.

A little sofa fun time.  Carol is looking at me like, "Yeah I gots my feet on you!  Whatcha gonna do 'bout it?"

My expression is one of, "A girl.  You had to have a girl.  And now I have to sit here with her feet on me, and she smells like sour milk, and just where exactly is the TV?"

And Mom is like, "You're sweet, Tom, but don't think I don't got my eye on you!"

There she is, all laid out on the kitchen counter top, as if....Mom!  You can't mean it!  She smells like sour milk!  Yuck!  What?  You mean she's not supper?  Uhh, oh yeah.  I knew that.  I was just joshing, Mom.

Just let me take the shalt shaker out of my hand.

I love you, Mom.  You were the best.  And Carol, you grew into a great sister.  Particularly after you stopped smelling like sour milk.