Baumgartner Generations: Janie

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I think I was two, maybe almost three years old when my brother Henry came along. I admit, I don’t remember looking forward to having a sibling. I was pretty mad about the whole thing. My mother still tells people about the time I used an entire bottle of Elmer’s glue to try and seal the baby’s room door shut—and he hadn’t even arrived yet. Besides, he was getting my old room, the one with the fun window you could crank open on hot days, and what good was that going to be for a baby, anyway?

It didn’t matter that I had brand new wallpaper in my new room with ladybugs that were as soft as velvet to the touch-the room that used to be Daddy’s office with the big oak desk-or that my mother had taken me shopping to find the perfect ladybug bedspread to match. It didn’t matter that I had a new big-girl bed with a tall canopy and wispy white curtains that billowed in the breeze from the open window like sails.

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