"I want to hear all about it," he said, "but let's wait till we're home, so you can tell everybody all at once." Then he pulled the car over to the curb and turned off the engine. "Wait here," he said. "I'm going to run into the store for some ice cream. We've got something to celebrate tonight!" The minute we pulled into our driveway, Becca came running out of the front door. "Did you get a part?" she asked excitedly. Mama was right behind her, carrying Squirt. Aunt Cecelia stood in the doorway, holding a dishcloth.

    Becca is my little sister. She's eight and a half, and she's a pretty great kid, even if she does drive me up the wall sometimes. She's really bright, and she has a great imagination. Becca loves to come and see me in my productions. In fact, she'd probably like to be in one herself - except for one thing. Becca has the worst case of stage fright I've ever seen.

    Squirt, who was now looking at me and saying, "Buh!" with a big smile on his face, is just a toddler. Squirt's not his real name, of course. His real name is John Philip Ramsey, Jr. - but Squirt suits him much better. He was named that by the nurses at the hospital where he was born, because he was the smallest baby there. He only weighed five pounds, eight ounces back then! Now he's a big lug - a big, squirmy lug, who was doing his best to get out of Mama's arms.

    "I'll take him," I said. "C'mere, Squirt-man." I took him from Mama and balanced him on my hip. I smiled at him. "How does it feel to be carried by a princess?" I asked.

    Mama gasped. "You got the role?" she asked.

    "Yup," I answered. "Princess Aurora, at your service." Becca was all over me, shrieking and smacking my arm.

    "Okay, Becca," said Aunt Cecelia. "Let's let the princess come in and have her dinner." Aunt Cecelia likes to try to keep things calm. She's Daddy's older sister, and she came to live with us not long ago, when Mama decided to go back to work and realized she'd need help with Squirt in order to do that.