Every so often, the topic of having more children comes up. Sometimes it is a joking reference from an acquaintance. Sometimes it is a prodding from my in laws. Sometimes it is a serious conversation with Cheryl. Other times, it is just me. . .sitting and thinking. . .like right now. On most of these occasions, many of the same tired arguments are raised: “do we want Beth to be an only child?”, “didn’t we always want to have at least two?”, “can we afford another child in day care?”; or, “can we afford another child, period?” Less often, I think of my experience as the oldest of three. If I were to think only of my childhood, then the decision would be easy. . .we’ll take just the one please. It’s not that simple however. At some point we all grew up. Something happened as I grew older; I found that I loved my family a great deal. As a child, my sisters were rivals and competitors for attention and scarce resources (like Jello Pudding Pops). Now I look back through my old pictures and I find that some of my happiest moments caught on film, since high school graduation, were spent with my sisters. Perhaps it’s not the best reason for having more children, but it has been one of the most persuasive reasons to date.