I was born December 5^th, 1995, only 5 years after my sister Mary, 9 years after my brother Barry and 14 years after my oldest brother. I am the baby of the family, the youngest grandchild on both sides of my family and I am proud of it, even though I do get sick of it sometimes as well. In pictures you can tell I’m the youngest; I’m the shortest, the child who wore clothes that were either too big or too small, rambunctious and had the best babysitters growing up. I was a tank in many ways, annoying in even more and always wanted to be just like [enter sibling name here]. I was brought to every sport, school, community function that my siblings were in. I watched my brothers go through high school and college, screaming like their number one fan, I followed my sister around to her dismay, and I am always the child who has to be introduced because people only remember me when I was [enter height here]. I am the forgotten sibling, where my brothers or sister forgot I was with them, or needed to be watched when they were supposed to be hanging out with friends, or rather wanted to play/read/watch something without my high pitched voice.

I was entertainment until they became tired of me and I still am the kid sibling who will do anything blindly for my older brothers or sister until I figure out it is a trick. But because of them, I have learned the beginning and ends of college, life after it and everything in between. They have lead me down a path where our last name is a good one to have, to be strong in adversity and be independent no matter who I am with. They show me what is right and what they did wrong so I can write my own, take a different path, and try a different way. They show me new tv shows, stores, books, jobs and different ways to be in a world that is changing constantly. They show me love, even when I mess up, let a secret slide, need money or a ride and make me feel anything but the youngest child. I have watched them fall, helped them back up and have received the same respect back. I am stronger because of their gracious actions, as well as their teasing, their shenanigans, them grabbing me by my wrists and ankles and throwing me on the couch from across the room, the jokes, the games we took too seriously, the dinners, lunches, fights and discussions about who knows what. We get stared at for our red hair, we are known for how close we all are despite our age gap and because of them, even though I have yelled, woke them up on Christmas mornings or mornings in general, eaten their food, stole their clothes or taken their limelight, I would not be the person I am today and would not want it any other way. I have matured faster than many, experienced so much and so little, done things I would never have without them, but that’s because, at heart, I want to beat them at everything and be the best, besides I am the prized child, the baby and