I have three older siblings, two sisters and one brother. They are all substantively older than I, with my brother being 7 years my senior and my sisters being 10 and 14 years my senior. So, when I was a lad, I spent a lot (please note the correct spelling) of time looking for playmates outside my family.
Today, Fr. Hamilton called to confab about homily ideas and structure and of course, given his superior piety, wishing me an anticipated "Merry Christmas." In the course of the conversation, Fr. Hamilton started giving me a hard time about some thing or the other, and mentioned that he was providing this service so that I could know, experientially, what it was like to have a younger brother. (Fr. H is 3 months younger than I which explains many of the immature pranks in the past.)
This led me to imagine what that would be like. Of course, even in neonatal I would be already keeping a diary of my life.
"Day One: Not much to report. Exhausted after the move.
If the kid next door doesn't stop screaming, I am going to request a private room."
But it doesn't stop there.
"Day 15: The one called Mother keeps interrupting me while I am sleeping. Must find way to end her merciless gynocracy. VICTORY IS MINE!"
I think it is better than Fr. H and I are fraternal twins. After all, that would mean he would have had to stay in utero for an additional three months. On the other hand, that does seem to fit his temperment.
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