Her mother laughed. “Eighteen months is a bit young for self discipline. I’d settle for Phillip just feeding himself.” Jessie trudged up the staircase with her package.    

“You baby him, Mom.”    

       “Ah, yes, Jessie dear. An eleven-year-old child psychologist is just what I need.”  Mrs. Hanson stood and headed for the kitchen. “He’s suspiciously quiet.”   

        Parents! thought Jessie. They only listen to themselves. She pushed the box into her room, sank to the floor and began to pry open the parcel. I hope it’s all here. The package tape wouldn’t budge. She got up and rifled through her desk drawer for something sharp. When she uncovered the old ad from the Chase Novelty Company, Jessie flopped onto her bed and read it for the hundredth time.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

       

 

       Jessie lay thinking. Her eyes traveled over her room papered in blue and white striped wallpaper. The bookshelves above her desk held all her most precious possessions. There stood the little photo of Jessie and her parents when she was a baby. Another picture showed Jessie and Tina clowning for the camera the last day of school in second grade. There was a pink cut-glass perfume bottle that her mother brought back from a trip to Chicago. Phillip’s one-year-old portrait sat in the center of the middle shelf. On the top shelf were all her favorite books--mostly mysteries. She eyed the photographs for a minute. She was the only blonde in the family. Mom and Daddy and Phillip all had brown curly hair and were tall. Sometimes she wondered if they were even related to her.