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Once again, while cataloging some of the many family treasures in my parents' home, I ran across several old War Ration Books, two of which had my name on them.

My mother's sister, Anne Leach Johnson, who served in the Women's Army Corps during WWII, and didn't have kids at that time, made it possible for my mother to get extra rations.

I was the little bundle of joy that came along just at the right time to be crowned "Little Lord Fauntleroy." I had it made in the shade.

My mother had plenty of help raising me. My Aunt Anne, family friend Frankie Hall, and schoolteachers Julia Hall and Terah Whitten, loved me to death. My aunt kept me clothed and supplied with toys, while Frankie, Julia and Terah were on-call baby-sitters 24-7.

Julia Hall, then a teacher at Leonard Street School, lived on behind my grandparents. Before I started school, Julia would take me with her to school each morning, and I'd spend the day in her classroom. Julia treated me like I was her firstborn.

Life was good before my sister Sandra "Penny" came along.

All of a sudden, I went from being a little prince to a child who had to start sharing with a screaming little monster.

Sharing didn't sit well with me because I was used to the whole pie and not a slice. Right off, Sis and I were going to be at each others throats for years to come.

I loved my sister dearly, but I did pull her hair and do other things to make her cry. That is, until one day, when out of her mouth came those famous words that made her the enemy: "I am going to tell Daddy."

Those six little words were about to end my three-year reign as "Little Lord Fauntleroy." No matter how small the infraction, she would start screaming, "I am going to tell Daddy."

Penny quickly caught on to the fact that when she screamed, I would get spanked. Daddy just loved his little tattletale and believed every word she said.

My track record of always getting into something didn't help my case. No one believed this little she-monster would bait me into doing something wrong, which she promptly reported.

Back in the '40s, my sister and I were both patients at High Point Hospital. I was in for a circumcision and tonsillectomy, and Penny was there to have her tonsils and adenoids removed. They put us in the same room. Big mistake!

Penny, knowing I had a short fuse, stood up in her crib and started to tease me.

When I couldn't take it anymore, I climbed over the side of my iron crib, climbed up and over into her crib. She started to scream bloody murder.

The nurse caught me, and to protect my sister, they took a heavy metal side rail from another crib and placed on top of my crib to prevent me from getting out.

Daddy saved a spanking for me until he deemed me well.

Once, during an argument, I grabbed her by her shoulders and shook her. My fingernails broke the flesh on her arms and a few drops of blood appeared.

For hours, Penny planned her Oscar-winning performance that would play out when Daddy got home from work. She kept a small trickle of blood flowing so her gown had lots of blood on it.

She won an Oscar for screaming "I am going to tell Daddy," my father, best actor for whipping my behind, and I won for best stunt man.

Penny's best performance of all time was in October of 1954. The forecast called for Hurricane Hazel to hit the coast of North Carolina with high winds and rains extending across the state.

Our house, on the corner of Normal and West Streets, had two large picture windows full of 12-by-12-inch panes. Before Hazel's high winds and rain hit High Point, Penny decided to make me angry, which didn't take much.

Her performance took place in front of the window on the West St. side that was not protected by an overhang. Penny knew what buttons to push to get a reaction, and it happened in a flash.

I picked up a rubber ball and threw it at her, and just like a graceful contortionist, she ducked and the ball took out one of the 12-inch panes.

Daddy's entrance into the house, Penny's tattling and Hazel's wind and rain all came together at the same time to make my life a holy hell. For hours, we used cardboard, newspaper, and other items trying to keep as much water as possible out of the house.

Each time the wind and rain died down a little, my father would light into my butt something terrible.

Each time Daddy wasn't looking; Penny would poke out her tongue and smile as if to say, Gotcha again!

Contact Glenn Chavis at Storytime40@aol.com