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It seems like yesterday I was sitting in the hospital, waiting for you. You were a late one, and you took forever. You didn't come when the doctor thought you would, but when you came, you were worth the wait. Although you were gooey and disgusting when you were born, I loved you. You were my baby sister.
Mommy had had you in her stomach for months, and I couldn't wait to have a baby sister. I imagined what I would do with you. We'd play dress-up, I'd put make-up on you, and you'd share my room with me. I'd hug you, and talk with you, and feed you. I even volunteered to change your diaper. I could dance with you, and play dolls with you. We'd have so much fun!
Even though I loved you when you were born, you weren't what I expected. I couldn't walk around with you in my arms. Mommy said I had to be extra careful with you, and I couldn't even hold you for long before you cried. I couldn't feed you, because Mommy breast-fed you, and you couldn't talk or walk.
I remember the first week you were home, Mommy said that you wanted your milk. I happily went to the fridge and pulled out a milk jug. Mommy laughed and said that that wasn't the kind of milk you liked. I wasn't able to change your diaper, but I could hand Mommy wipes while she changed you. You couldn't dance with me, but I could dance in front of you while you swung in your baby swing. You took naps often, and I had to be quiet.
All of that seems like yesterday. I remember the purple outfit in which you came home in. I was 8.
Now I'm 12, and you're 4. You're starting school next year. You've grown, and you have an attitude. You can talk and walk, and you no longer wear diapers. I miss the newborn you, but I still love you.
Skyler, where have the years gone?
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