Youngest Child
The sun is shinningI feel alright
I’m gonna lie in the shade and wait for the night
Ya know my eyes are gray, my hair is wild
That’s ok I’m the youngest child
I love my mother, she treats me good
My elder brothers don’t think she should
They say he sleeps all day, he’s so spoiled
She says that’s ok he’s the youngest child!
Everyday I go: Yeah, yeah, yeah! 
Everyday I go: Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Everyday I go: Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Everyday I go: Yeah, yeah, yeah!
The girls all like me ‘cause I’m so sweet
They say let’s get married on Cypress Street
I say: Please baby, baby that’s not my style
They say that’s ok, he’s the youngest child
Everyday I go: Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Everyday I go: Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Everyday I go: Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Everyday I go: Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Everyday I go: Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Youngest Child
My elder brothers don’t think she should
They say he sleeps all day, he’s so spoiled
She says that’s ok he’s the youngest child!
Everyday I go: Yeah, yeah, yeah! 
Everyday I go: Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Everyday I go: Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Everyday I go: Yeah, yeah, yeah!
The girls all like me ‘cause I’m so sweetThey say let’s get married on Cypress Street
I say: Please baby, baby that’s not my style
They say that’s ok, he’s the youngest child
Everyday I go: Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Everyday I go: Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Everyday I go: Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Everyday I go: Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Everyday I go: Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Youngest Child Youngest Child
Youngest Child
Youngest Child
Youngest Child
Youngest Child
- Spottiswoode and His Enemies
I want to send this song to my sister, Daryl but I haven’t got the hang of the technology yet. OK, yes, I would have to actually purchase the song, download it to my computer and then send it to my sister in an email. Only I’m too cheap and she doesn’t check her email very often. I think she’d enjoy it. My intention is another jab in a life long but good natured ribbing between the two of us.
I am indeed the youngest child, the last of four daughters. Having a daughter of my own, I now really feel for my parents. What a challenge they faced with their offspring. And what a challenge the four of us faced being their children. We turned out to be a stereotypical set of ACOA kids. The eldest is a hyper responsible leader. The second is a cautious but outspoken rebel. The third is a lost soul and the fourth came along to distract everyone from the daily misery, a mischievous and light hearted child. At least I appear to be on the surface.
Like Jonathan Spottiswoode’s elder brothers, my sisters bitterly complained as I got away with what they considered murder. Carol moaned every time she heard: “You are older, you should know better.” What she should have known was that eventually the child you torment will grow up and if she gets bigger than you, she will beat the snot out of you because the younger child doesn’t have the brains or the communication skills you have. Poor Carol’s attempts to ditch a hero worshiping kid sister turned out to be a humiliating experience. The oldest, Deb, returned to the
dysfunctional nest during my senior year in high school. Having a traumatic year of her own, she focused on my own misadventures. My parents were 
tired, worn out and worn down. The perfect ploy for a wild and willful high school senior with her own set of car keys. Instead of me getting hollered at for staying out all night, my mother got lectured by my sister who could not believe my parents rules had lapsed so greatly in ten short years. Blissfully, the second child, Daryl shared Deb’s patience with me as a small child, teaching me to read and creating stories with me. She remained both my mentor and somewhat distant during my teen years. Maybe that was the key!
Despite the family predictions that I would not live to see my thirtieth birthday, I have exceeded their expectations, in years and accomplishments. (It’s kinda easy when they don’t think much will come of you.) Not only did I make it to 30, I actually
graduated from college before that birthday! I launched a career, married, bought a house and had two sweet kids. I am generally considered a success, although I struggle much more than they do financially and emotionally. Carol did not fare so 
well and has become a distant figure to us all.
I am indeed the youngest child, the last of four daughters. Having a daughter of my own, I now really feel for my parents. What a challenge they faced with their offspring. And what a challenge the four of us faced being their children. We turned out to be a stereotypical set of ACOA kids. The eldest is a hyper responsible leader. The second is a cautious but outspoken rebel. The third is a lost soul and the fourth came along to distract everyone from the daily misery, a mischievous and light hearted child. At least I appear to be on the surface.
Like Jonathan Spottiswoode’s elder brothers, my sisters bitterly complained as I got away with what they considered murder. Carol moaned every time she heard: “You are older, you should know better.” What she should have known was that eventually the child you torment will grow up and if she gets bigger than you, she will beat the snot out of you because the younger child doesn’t have the brains or the communication skills you have. Poor Carol’s attempts to ditch a hero worshiping kid sister turned out to be a humiliating experience. The oldest, Deb, returned to the
dysfunctional nest during my senior year in high school. Having a traumatic year of her own, she focused on my own misadventures. My parents were 
tired, worn out and worn down. The perfect ploy for a wild and willful high school senior with her own set of car keys. Instead of me getting hollered at for staying out all night, my mother got lectured by my sister who could not believe my parents rules had lapsed so greatly in ten short years. Blissfully, the second child, Daryl shared Deb’s patience with me as a small child, teaching me to read and creating stories with me. She remained both my mentor and somewhat distant during my teen years. Maybe that was the key!
Despite the family predictions that I would not live to see my thirtieth birthday, I have exceeded their expectations, in years and accomplishments. (It’s kinda easy when they don’t think much will come of you.) Not only did I make it to 30, I actually
graduated from college before that birthday! I launched a career, married, bought a house and had two sweet kids. I am generally considered a success, although I struggle much more than they do financially and emotionally. Carol did not fare so 
well and has become a distant figure to us all. In a stormy childhood, being the youngest is the best place to be. I was sheltered by those stronger and older than myself. Sometimes those protectors were raged at by both my parents and me. Depression and
alcohol left the oldest two in charge of a quiet child, Carol and a changeling, me. I could be a fun & loving kid but conflict with my will could produce a violent battle. My poor sisters were faced with controlling me while Dad slept off a binge or Mom was holed up in depression. Either way they usually bore the brunt of our parent’s wrath when the youngest child set up a howl about the injustice of being reigned in by second string authority. The inability to gauge consequences sometimes eludes me to this day.
Despite the trials I put them through; my big sisters continue to support and love me, even in the most absurd circumstances. I miss Carol, her whereabouts are usually unknown. Deb and Daryl have valiantly stepped up to help her children when efforts to help Carol herself were
refused. Deb and her husband, Ken are raising Carol’s kids, Max and Marisa. Daryl convinced my Mom to move next door to her to help raise Carol’s oldest, Caitlyn, now a junior in college. My heart swells when I think how fine these children have turned out. My pride in my family is overwhelming. They do all that and still have time to do the “Sister Check” on me, three
states away. No matter my trouble, I feel that love and support through the phone lines. Occasionally, there’s a card in the mail (Hallmark should give Deb stock for her support over the years) or some silliness left on the answering machine. They’ve clothed my children and me with hand me downs. My children have yet to hit the soccer field without a cousin’s shoes!
They continue to love and protect me despite my bad choices and incredible luck.
Our Dad passed away over twenty years ago and our Mom has begun the spiral of ill health which we can only watch with concern. There have been conversations about when we are alone, whether it will be easier or not because we are our own support system. Nobody can replace my parents but the good parts of them continue in my sisters. The sheer determination of self preservation from my mother exists in them. The insights to the human condition (or bar stool sociologist) from my father exists in them. They are so much more than that.
Chronologically, I should be the last one standing. That should happen through sheer luck. I cannot imagine a world with out my sisters in it. Between them they have raised five children that can step up to the plate. I pray I’ll be wise enough to accept the beautiful things each of these children offer.
Some how, even among the younger generation, I’m still the youngest child.
alcohol left the oldest two in charge of a quiet child, Carol and a changeling, me. I could be a fun & loving kid but conflict with my will could produce a violent battle. My poor sisters were faced with controlling me while Dad slept off a binge or Mom was holed up in depression. Either way they usually bore the brunt of our parent’s wrath when the youngest child set up a howl about the injustice of being reigned in by second string authority. The inability to gauge consequences sometimes eludes me to this day.Despite the trials I put them through; my big sisters continue to support and love me, even in the most absurd circumstances. I miss Carol, her whereabouts are usually unknown. Deb and Daryl have valiantly stepped up to help her children when efforts to help Carol herself were
refused. Deb and her husband, Ken are raising Carol’s kids, Max and Marisa. Daryl convinced my Mom to move next door to her to help raise Carol’s oldest, Caitlyn, now a junior in college. My heart swells when I think how fine these children have turned out. My pride in my family is overwhelming. They do all that and still have time to do the “Sister Check” on me, three
states away. No matter my trouble, I feel that love and support through the phone lines. Occasionally, there’s a card in the mail (Hallmark should give Deb stock for her support over the years) or some silliness left on the answering machine. They’ve clothed my children and me with hand me downs. My children have yet to hit the soccer field without a cousin’s shoes!They continue to love and protect me despite my bad choices and incredible luck.
Our Dad passed away over twenty years ago and our Mom has begun the spiral of ill health which we can only watch with concern. There have been conversations about when we are alone, whether it will be easier or not because we are our own support system. Nobody can replace my parents but the good parts of them continue in my sisters. The sheer determination of self preservation from my mother exists in them. The insights to the human condition (or bar stool sociologist) from my father exists in them. They are so much more than that.
Chronologically, I should be the last one standing. That should happen through sheer luck. I cannot imagine a world with out my sisters in it. Between them they have raised five children that can step up to the plate. I pray I’ll be wise enough to accept the beautiful things each of these children offer.
Some how, even among the younger generation, I’m still the youngest child.
posted by Janjanboban @ 3:19 PM
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