Growing up the youngest has been a rollercoaster. Sometimes the odds are in your favor, other times they're totally against you. Sometimes it's great being the "baby" of the family, but other times it gets old. Most of all, it's been very interesting and I wouldn't trade it for the world; well, most days I wouldn't. Anyways, babies of the family, this one is for you.

If my older sibling hit me, all I had to do was cry loud enough for my mom or dad to hear me. Of course, they would come into the other room, ask my brother why he had hit me, he would say he barely touched me, I would continue to cry, and he would get in trouble. Within the next minute after all was said and done I was miraculously better. I had that system mastered perfectly. It wasn't to be deceitful to my parents but rather to see how many times I could get my brother in trouble before it didn't work anymore. I know, the youngest are kind of brats.

Being the youngest meant that I got babied longer. When at places, like the zoo, if I didn't want to walk any longer I would get two options: ride in the stroller or get carried by my dad. How could I beat that? Riding in a stroller or being carried meant I could either continue to pay attention to what was going on around me or it meant that I could fall asleep. You can't do that while you're walking.

Stealing my brother's hoodies and sweatpants was one of my favorite things to do. Let's be honest, guys' sweats and hoodies are a thousand times comfier than girls' sweats and hoodies. Even though I would get yelled at by him for not asking, I kept doing it. I'm sure those who have sisters went through the same thing. She would tell you to stop, but come on now babies of the family, you have to admit that your older sibling telling you to stop was just more of a challenge for you. It's like when someone tells you that something is forbidden. A lot of times you're still going to go for the forbidden item because it has "challenge accepted" written all over it.

Sometimes you were the walking punching bag for your older sibling. You took something of theirs? You got hit. Looked at them wrong? You got slapped. Mouthed them or actually had the audacity to hit them? You probably ran for your damn life. Most likely, you weren't just the physical punching bag, though. You were also the verbal punching bag.

If your sibling had a new insult that they wanted to try out you were the first one to hear it. And it was directed at you. If your sibling was feeling extra mean and wanted to get a rise out of you chances are they pulled the, "Well you were adopted", card. Or, "Fed-Ex dropped you off', and every time they saw a Fed-Ex truck they would say, "Hey, there's your actual home". One time my brother and I were sitting in the car while my mom was inside a gas station paying for gas. Keep in mind that I was terrified of getting kidnapped as a child. Knowing this, he looked at me, smirked, and yelled out the window, "Sister for sale! Best offer!". I instantly started yelling at him to stop and started bawling. Being the youngest sometimes sucked. Especially when your older sibling would pull a card like that and your mom thought it was kind of comical and your sibling didn't even get in trouble for it.

Being youngest also meant you were the guinea pig/servant. If your sibling wanted to test the waters, they would send you to try it first. Also, if your sibling wanted something then they would use their dominance over you to make you do it. I can't count how many times my brother would take the remote from me because "he was older". Or if he was feeling too lazy, he would make me go get him food from the kitchen or something from his room. And if you didn't do what your older sibling asked, chances are that they had some form of blackmail on you and were prepared to use it at any given time. You were just better off doing what they asked or demanded. I'll never forget when I was playing with little figurines in my room and I said the word damn at the age of six or seven. My brother just happened to be standing in my doorway, about to come in my room when he heard me say that and then he said, "Oooohhh, you said a bad word, I'm telling!" After many tears, begging, and compromise, he didn't tell on me. But he still lingered that over my head for the longest time. It was his fuel for blackmail at the time.

As I got older, being the youngest meant I had to follow the outline of my brother's life. If he didn't get to watch inappropriate movies until he was thirteen, neither did I. If his curfew was eleven on school nights at the age of 17, then when I got to be that age it was my curfew too. If he got in trouble for certain things, then when I got to be older I wouldn't get the same chances that he did because he practically burnt those bridges for me.

Sometimes people wouldn't even refer to me by my name. They preferred to say, "Hey, aren't you so and so's younger sibling?" It was one of the most annoying things, but of course, you had to just smile and say, "Yes I am." Even though you were thinking, "I have my own name, you jerk. My older sibling doesn't define me."

And finally, being the youngest meant that I was the baby. The last to fly the coop. The nest was empty after I left. Therefore, my mom and dad had a harder time of letting me go than they did my brother. Of course, they probably cried harder when my brother moved away since he was the first to do so, but things such as talking/texting every day were harder for them to do with me. I mean, I was the only child in the house for two years after my brother left, so they got used to talking to just me every day. So from their perspective, I can understand where they're coming from. I'll always be the baby in my parents' eyes.

Growing up the youngest hasn't always been the easiest and sometimes I got picked on more than I would have liked to, but I'll always proudly say that I am the baby of the family.