Over 30 years ago, when I was about 10 years old, my father remarried (my mother had died four years earlier) to a woman with a daughter my age, named Erin, who was about the brattiest person living; or at least I thought so at the time.
When they went on their honeymoon, my Aunt Karen stayed with us. She was my dad’s youngest sister, only 19 years old and very good looking. To me, she defined cool. She let us stay up late, we ate lunch and dinner from McDonalds; we were allowed to do whatever we wanted.