I am the youngest child of three. Eldest is brother, middle is sister. If you know anything about birth orders and personalities, this means I should be the impetuous, irresponsible pain in the ass kid. The screw up. The impulsive, thoughtless one. Welp. Short story about my sis:

Every year my parents visit my sister because she doesn’t bother to ever visit them. They do so in the spring (March or April usually), so she holds onto Christmas gifts till then and sends them back with my parents, who live six minutes from me. This is a little weird but fine.

I send her and her family’s gifts in December like a normal human, because Christmas happens to be... in December. But whatever. She doesn’t like the post office or something.

This year because of COVID, my parents didn’t get down there in the spring.

In fact, they didn’t get down there until my dad went hunting in OR earlier this month and dropped by her house on the way home. She sent the Christmas gifts home with him. We are now closer to 2020 Christmas than 2019. I had forgotten at this point. She coulda just saved em.

Anyway, nine months on, a small paper bag of Christmas gifts is suddenly delivered by my dad, and I got a kick out of the fact that instead of just sending the *maybe three pound* $10ish package to us in the mail, she held it for the gestation period of a human being.

But IT GETS BETTER.

My daughter is eleven. Her name is extremely popular and we spelled it one of the two common ways. It’s four letters, but there’s a three letter version (points if you guess it). My sister not only named her first daughter from a character of an 80s fantasy/

movie, she changed the spelling to something that doesn’t even make sense & I think she just made up her 2nd daughter’s name & tacked an h on the end of it for funsies. Daughter 1: 6 letters. Daughter 2: seven. I can spell THEIR names but my sister misspelled my daughters name.

Siblings are monsters the end.

PS. I have an even worse story about my brother and Christmas.