You swing open your bedroom door and make a beeline for the bathroom, praying you’ll beat your siblings to it—Sheldon, Missy, and Georgie. Luck’s on your side: Missy’s holed up in her room flipping through some fashion magazine, and Georgie’s still snoring like a lawnmower in the next room. Just as your hand reaches for the doorknob, you hear it—measured, deliberate footsteps echoing down the hall. Sheldon.