Author's Note: This is the first of (hopefully) several chapters about the childhood of Don and Charlie's little sister, Julia. She's 10 years younger than Charlie, 15 years younger than Don. I created that large of an age gap so that several things that we know from cannon (for example the infamous camping trip) would have happened as we have heard about them. Also, it allows Charlie to be the youngest child for long enough so that he is the individual that we know and love :) In addition, it allows me the opportunity to look at some of the decisions that Alan and Margaret made and to see them through a different set of eyes.

I hope you enjoy!

She of course didn't remember her birth or the early days of her life, but she'd seen the pictures, heard the stories. Stories about how her parents, after having two boys, had always wanted to have a girl. They had tried for years without success and had accepted that they would be a family of four. And then, quite by surprise, when her brothers were almost 10 and almost 15, their parents announced to them that their mother was pregnant. And months later, on an early March day, the kind of day that can only exist in southern California, she came in to the world, Julia Renee Eppes, 6 lbs 14 oz, the daughter her parents had long hoped for.

On that first day, her father had brought her brother Don to see her, and he, other than the nurses and her parents, was the first one to hold her. As the story went, her brother was at first, very uncomfortable with the idea of holding his new baby sister, especially when she'd started to cry. But their mother coaxed him through his initial nervousness, encouraging him to talk to her. He did keep talking to her, pausing only to gently wipe away the tears from her little round cheeks when she'd stopped crying. He'd then touched her wiggling little fingers, which she wrapped around his, impressing him with her grip. She knew this was more than just a story that her parents told, as her first picture, in her brother's arms in the hospital, hung on the wall in their family room.

A few days later, her parents brought her home. In the days in between, her father and brothers had finished her nursery, using the small room across from her parents' bedroom. They painted the little room baby girl pink, so different from the warm neutrals that dominated their Craftsman home, and hung white eyelet lace curtains on the windows. They had put the new baby furniture together; her brothers' baby things having long been given away. Her new crib was made with soft pink and white sheets and covered with a pastel baby quilt. When they'd arrived home, her father and brothers shepparded her mother and her up to the completed room. Her mother had oooed and ahhed over the room, amazed at how well they had done. She didn't know until years later that they'd gone to the baby store and had had the clerk show them what to choose; she'd informed them how to make things coordinate, not match. The final touch, though, had been chosen by Don. On the way home from running errands with his father, he'd had him pull over at a florist near the house. He'd recently started dating and had learned that girls liked flowers, and so it only seemed appropriate that his baby sister should be greeted with them. He'd wandered around the small shop, trying to decide what to get, when he saw them. Daisies. Daisies seemed like the perfect flower for a baby. He'd gotten three dozen of them and when they'd arrived home, he found a glass bowl to arrange them in. When he was done, he took them up to the nursery and placed them very carefully on the shelf near the crib, so that she would always be able to see them. Her mother had loved that detail and after that, had often kept flowers in her nursery, in the same place that Don had originally put them.

That nursery became her haven for the first three years of her life, the place where she was rocked and read to, comforted and spoiled. Where she learned to adore her big brother Don, who would sometimes come in and pick her up when she cried. Where she learned to be puzzled by Charlie, who would, on occasion, come in with his notebooks and watch her, writing furiously. She later discovered that Charlie was collecting data on her, trying to develop equations that would help him make sense of the strange little thing that was his baby sister.

While her nursery was her haven, it wasn't her only one. From the time she was tiny baby, she'd loved to be held, loved human contact. She loved the way her mother held her, wrapped up in her towel after her bath, the way her father took her hand while she toddled around the backyard, making sure that she didn't tumble into the koi pond. But what she really loved was to snuggle and she'd quickly learned the best ways to get her "big people" to take the time to indulge her. She'd initially tried toddling up to them, reaching for them or babbling to them, but it hadn't worked well. She rarely got the reaction she wanted. So, she tried another approach. When they were still long enough, she would crawl into their laps or burrow under their arms. She'd found this much more effective.

She'd always felt that her father's lap was probably her favorite, his big hands and strong arms were always so warm, so comforting. Whenever he would sit in his chair to read or work on a crossword puzzle, she would toddle up to him and climb up in to his lap. He would look up, take off his glasses and put aside his reading. As soon as he did, she would press her face into his chest, her small fingers winding themselves into his shirt, his arms wrapping around her little body, holding her close. She would always sigh, content in her daddy's warmth and strength, knowing in her heart that all was right with her little world.

It had been harder to find random moments with her mother. She was always doing something, working on her legal papers, taking Charlie to his various classes and lessons, preparing meals. But when she found those moments, she knew her mother's lap was different, her long, slender fingers cool to the touch, settling her when she didn't feel well or finding just the right spot to massage on the back of her neck to calm her when she'd become frustrated, often from trying to chase after her brothers. Those same fingers would also brush through her hair, slowly separating the dark strands and playing with the little curls at the ends. She loved having her mommy play with her hair; her touch and soft whispers often sending her in to a peaceful sleep, with any worry or care banished from her mind.

Don and Charlie were an entirely different experience. Donnie wasn't there much, always off at school or baseball or with his friends, but when she managed to catch him, his snuggles were like no other. He would center her in his lap, wrapping his arms around her, resting his chin on her head, all the while gently teasing her to make her giggle. No one made her giggle the way Donnie did; his energy making her feel like she could do anything. Daddy comforted her, Mommy soothed her, but Donnie, Donnie made her fearless.

Charlie did none of those things. He always seemed restless, unable to simply sit with her, deal with her little girl ways, her little girl needs. As far as she knew, he'd never found the algorithm or formula that he'd searched for to understand her and she often sensed his discomfort, his frustration, at being with her. But there were moments, times when he was able to settle down himself. And sometimes, she found her way to him during those moments, and she would curl up next to him, her head resting on his side. He would awkwardly wrap his arm around her shoulder, uncomfortable with her desire to snuggle. But he would try. And while she didn't feel warmth or comfort or boundless energy from him, she knew she was safe.

Those were wonderful moments for her, the time when they were all still together, her brothers both still at home, before she had any understanding of the complex dynamics that existed in her family. She loved her family, she loved her home and she loved the little universe that they created together. That little universe would inevitably change (something for which Charlie might actually be able to create an equation). In hindsight, she could identify the exact day when it all started to change, but at the time, she had no idea.