The only youngest child in our family is turning 4 next week!

Captain is an oldest sibling. I’m an oldest sibling. BB is the oldest. And RB is the youngest. We don’t understand her plight.

“RB what would you like for your birthday?”

“The same things as BB.”

“The same things as BB?”

“The same Barbies BB has. The same bag.”

BB got a new swim/beach bag for her birthday with an “H” on it. I ask RB,

“You want the same bag, but with an “E” on it?”

“No an “H.””

Right.

Everything that BB does, RB better be able to do too or else she is down in the dumps. RB hasn’t missed a trip to the bus stop yet, despite the disappointment of not boarding too.

RB is very happy to pick out her own clothes, say shorts and a shirt. She’ll be on her way and then boom, BB is in a dress. RB begins to wail,

“I NEED TO CHANGE. I NEED A DRESS TOO!”

Occasionally BB may take into account something about RB and ask for the same, but that usually only applies to candy.

RB, happy and sure of herself, then sees her sister: wearing, doing, being and nothing is right until she can duplicate everything.

When BB got in the pool for her swim-team tryout this summer, RB couldn’t have been madder. She glared at me,

“I’m NOT getting in the pool?!”

“No.”

“I want to race.”

“I know you do.”

Then when BB’s five minute tryout turned into an unanticipated hour practice, I thought RB’s head might explode or that she would jump into the pool anyway. She’s convinced turning 4 is going to solve all her problems.

I’ve got a cake problem. Just like RB couldn’t nail down a color for her coveted beach bag with an “H.” She also couldn’t seem to keep her cake story straight. After many changes, there was a solid two weeks of telling me,

“Chocolate Elsa cake with strawberries. No Anna.”

You’d think she’d identify with Anna.

Yesterday I ordered a chocolate Elsa cake. After school I told RB,

“I ordered your cake.”

“What is it?”

“Chocolate Elsa cake.”

“I don’t like chocolate.”

“What?!”

“It’s ok if you got it wrong mom.”

“I didn’t get it wrong!”

“I want white cake. It’s ok you got it wrong.”

But is it really ok?

I recruit Captain. He corners her in the living room,

“So what kind of cake did you want for your birthday?”

“Mom got it wrong, but that’s ok. I don’t like chocolate.”

I didn’t get it wrong! But I sure did call Market Basket and change it.

For Hanukkah last year BB asked for a watch. I took the path of least resistance and got one for RB too. It’s analog. I’m not even sure BB knows how to use it, never mind RB.

BB slipped hers on the other morning, an impromptu fashion choice. RB hasn’t paid hers any attention since she unwrapped it nine months ago. I haven’t seen anyone find something faster. RB swaggered to the bus stop, her upside down watch swinging on her arm.

And when I dropped her off at school, it was still on her arm. I may have turned it right side up, not that it matters.

When I picked her up that afternoon, I was surprised to see she was still wearing it. She told me,

“My friends asked me why I was wearing this.”

“Why are you wearing it?”

She rolled her eyes and sighed with the attitude of her big sister,

“So I know what time it is.”

Duh.

It’s almost birthday time. I did not buy her a bag with her sister’s name on it.

At school RB wrote her whole name, not just an “E,” for the very first time. I congratulated her. She beamed from ear to ear and told me,

“I wrote an “H” for BB too!”