I had always thought that what I lacked in my family was some attentive, brownie-baking female to keep my hair curled and generally Donna-Reed over me. But my behavior got worse with Grandma’s new order. I became a nail-biter. My tantrums escalated to the point where even Daddy didn’t think they were funny anymore. I tore down the new drapes they’d hung across the dining room windows and clawed scratch marks down both of Lecia’s cheeks. Beating me didn’t seem to discourage me one whit. Though I was a world-famous crybaby,
