How the Oldest Child Comes Down with Oldest-Child Syndrome

So Elise, Sam, Pete and I were headed over to Michaels to pick up some art supplies for Elise's photo shoot last night. We stopped--as we usually do--at Starbucks for some quick liquid energy.

I hopped out of the car to run in and grab a few cups of brew. Elise and the boys were going to wait in the car. I told everyone I'd be right back. Sam burst into tears.

Elise just nodded her head knowingly and stated simply, "...This is how it starts." I knew it, too. I would never (nor would I really want to) be able to run into pick up coffee's, run into the store for milk, check into a hotel, leave our name at the hostess stand of restaurant or do any other kind of advance reconnaisance without Sam supervising.