I did not grow up with a large family. Seeing extended family — even some type of grandparent-like figure — was reserved for holidays. And I’m ok with that because what it means is that my little family of four is actually quite close. I grew up with a mommy, a daddy, and a brother (and our dog, Sparky, who will be the first to greet me at the pearly gates).
My parents are the kind of parents who will play with me, help me with my homework, talk me through tough times, and celebrate even the smallest of victories with me. My brother is the kind of kid that can crawl under my skin and be utterly annoying, but is always there for me at a drop of a hat. I say these things in the present tense because, even as an adult-aged child, all these statements remain true. I used to think I wanted to be a part of a large family, have endless lists of relatives. Not anymore. Party of four means I’m never lost in the crowd, can give and receive attention when needed. Plus we don’t have to wait that long for a table at restaurants. 
