I was mad. I stomped my three year old feet around the linoleum kitchen floor. Grandma sat watching my little tantrum. Every now and then she would crane her neck as my head disappeared behind a counter.
“Camille can see him. Why can’t I?” I tried running though the door but Grandma stopped me.
“Camille doesn’t have a cold,” said Grandma resuming her guarding position. “And besides, right now he is taking a nap.”
“Humph!” I folded my chubby, little arms and tried to think of another way into Mommy’s big room. Mommy and Daddy weren’t here, Grandma had been left to watch me and my big sister. But right now all she was doing was watching me. I had seen Camille in the room before but I didn’t know where she was now.
“Why can’t I see him?” My high pitched toddler voice was frustrated. I didn’t understand. Everyone had been anxiously waiting for my brother but now that he was here I couldn’t even see what he looked like.
“I’m sorry Mary,” said Grandma. “You’ll just have to wait.”
“What does he look like? What is his name?” I tried looking past Grandma. I could see a car seat on the big bed.
“Jeffrey,” Grandma said as she pulled the door shut.
“His name is Jeffrey”
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