 If only he were here to see how you've grown. Grown out of her tantrums, hopefully. I'm 13 now, Rosa, not six. I'm no longer home enough now to observe you. But I do remember you screaming, I want to go, I want to go, I want to go, when Erna went off to Victoria's school and you were left at home. I always disliked being the youngest. What you disliked was not having your own way. Rosa, this is Edith's birthday, not the time to criticize.