The New Baby (Part 2 of 3)

I needed someone on my side. I needed a brother.
Every time I learned the news my mom was going to have another baby, I secretly thought, “I hope it’s a boy. I hope it’s a boy.” Every time I heard the news from the hospital, “You have another sister, Billy...” I secretly cringed inside and thought, “Not another one.”
One day my sisters piled on the last straw. I was wearing a night shirt my mom had made me. I was about to put on my underwear when my sisters rushed in and proceeded to pull the night shirt up, so they could see my pre-adolescent male anatomy for the first time. I struggled for several minutes to keep my night shirt down before my strength gave out and my sisters succeeded in pulling the shirt up for a second, then they ran off giggling. I marched into my mom and dad’s
room and said. “Those girls are driving me crazy and I am outnumbered. I want a brother and I want one soon! Now what are you going to do about it?”
Calmly, my father said, “We’ll see what we can do, Billy.”
Their immediate solution to the problem was to have a foster Indian boy, Bill Coho, come live with us. But within a year my mom was pregnant again, although I don’t think strictly because of my request. My parents always planned a large family.