“Put the baby down Mommy!” I said this about 500 times a day when I was two. My sister had just come home from the hospital, wrapped in a pink and blue striped baby blanket, all bundled up and, of course, crying. I was so little that I thought my sister was a doll. At first, she was so much fun and the best playmate ever! Later on, I began to see that she required a lot of undivided attention from my mom. I got so jealous of her that I started to tell my mom that I wanted her to put her down. I thought, just like a doll, she was disposable. I didn’t think my mom was going to give her so much of the love that originally belonged to me. I thought my sister, Mackenzie was just going to be there as a playmate, not a whole other responsibility to my mom. Eventually, I got the idea of getting rid of Mackenzie altogether. I voiced my opinion by telling my mom to put her up for adoption and I even had another scheme, which mainly consisted of giving her to an orphanage. I wasn’t as bad as I might sound, but I certainly didn’t like being looked over because of a baby. I was in my “terrible-two’s” and wanted to be at center stage, in the spotlight. I eventually realized that Mackenzie was not going to take the spotlight away from me, but I could give her a little light. And instead of complaining that my mom was giving her all the attention, I could hang with my dad. Because of her, I think, is how I came to be such a “Daddy’s girl”. Ever since my “terrible-two’s” I have been closer with my dad and I have my sister to thank for that.