Thinking of dear daughter.
It seems odd now when I have spent all my life being the tallest (6ft), but growing up, in our family, I was the smallest, and only girl.
I have just been dusting an old chair that my grandmother had that is really on its last legs now and is seeing out its days as my bedroom chair. When I lived at home, it had been handed down to my parents and was in the hall next to the grandfather clock and was fairly rickety then. Nobody sat on it, it was just there.
But when there was a family meal that required all our chairs, I, as the smallest, had to sit on the wobbly old chair. Dusting it, I remembered the feeling of having to sit very still because if it moved it might break. Not that I might get hurt but I might break the special chair.
Dear daughter is the smallest in our family and it is always her (she?) who has to sit in the middle in the back seat of the car, take the smallest bed, smallest chair. It makes you feel that you are the least important somehow. Now, as the grown up, I can see that it is just what happens, your older brothers won't fit in these places but it hasn't taken away that feeling.
Love you dear daughter.