QuestionMy Large Family
A picture of a smiling family of eleven people. For many years I didn’t realize that my family was larger than normal. That’s because enormous families somehow seemed (1) to our neighborhood. I don’t know what made people on our block so (2), but the Harrisons, who lived on one side of us, had nine kids; and the Montoyas, on the other side, had twelve. When Mom said she was going to have her eleventh child, the ten of us wondered if another baby wasn’t (3): one more than necessary. Still, I think we enjoyed one another as much as any family I know. Naturally, we had our battles, but though they were sometimes intense, they never lasted long, and it didn’t take much to (4) yourself in a brother’s or a sister’s good graces. If nothing else worked, you could always (5) yourself by blaming whatever had happened on another sibling who wasn’t home at the moment. Also, we learned to cooperate. When you have to get along with so many different people, you learn not to be (6). A self-centered person wouldn’t have lasted ten minutes in my home.

Of course, there were times when the size of our family was a (7). With all those people around, any kind of (8) activity was just about impossible—there was simply no place to hide and no way to keep a secret. Our numbers could be a detriment, as well. Once, a new neighbor, not realizing how many of us there were, offered to take us all for ice cream. With amusement, he watched the (9) sight of nine children and one toddler trying to squeeze into an ordinary passenger car. Although he obviously hadn’t been prepared for such a (10), it didn’t squelch his plans. He just grinned and said, “Okay, we’ll go in shifts.”