Because I’m the Big Sister.


Lets start from the very beginning, shall we? Of course we shall. I’m the one writing this shit! Haha! Anyway.

When I was a small little girl (missing teeth, doe eyes, strong belief in the existance of the tooth fairy and Santa Clause, habit of rambling on about utter gibberish and all that jazz), I wanted a baby sister. One whom I could play with, dress up, do her hair, share secrets with, blame everything on, hang out with and tell on.

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Don’t they look cute?

And since I used to think that God sends the babies to the mother’s womb (What? I was a kid!), I prayed to God every night for a baby sister. Well, almost every night. Sometimes I prayed for a puppy too.

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I’m sure I never looked that cute while praying…

So, anyway, eventually, after a few months, God answered my prayers. No, not the one about the baby sister. About the puppy. My parents showed up with a small white moving furball, that I later realized was a puppy. He was a Spitz, and I named him Tuffy.

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But, this post is not about Tuffy. So lets get back to the story.

Right. So, after I guess two years, my mom became a balloon. Well, not an actual balloon. Imagine that! Haha! Damn, I keep getting side-tracked… Anyway, after nine months, my second prayer was going to be answered. I was ecstatic.
So, months passed, my mom became crankier by the day, not to metion bigger. And finally, the day came when she was vroomed off to the hospital, to have the baby. I almost peed my pants, I was so excited. After a couple of hours (or more probably), the baby was born! I couldn’t wait to see her!
That day, in the evening, I was taken to the hospital to see the baby. And my mom. But lets just focus on the baby now. So, I was lead to this huge white room, with a huge glass window and a million beds inside the room. Ok, not a million. But still. The beds, I noticed, had babies inside them too! And I was so worried about not bein able to recognize my baby sister, because obviously, I had never seen her before. But the nurse led me toward the corner of the room, which I wasn’t allowed to enter by the way, and pointed to a tiny little sleeping baby, and said, “That’s your baby brother.”
Imagine my surprise.
Or horror. Whichever you prefer.
I was aghast! The baby was supposed to be a girl! I was convinced that the stupid nurse was mistaken. But when my mom later confirmed, that the baby was indeed a boy, I was disappointed. I was convinced that God was deaf. Or had selective hearing power. Actually no, I had never thought the latter. I did not even know the words selective hearing let alone what it meant. But anyway.
My mother was not very impressed when I suggested that she could exchange the baby boy with any of the baby girls in the white room with the glass window, nobody would notice because all the babies looked the same anyway. Needless to say, the suggestion was rejected. And so the baby boy went home.
Yes, I learned to love him, after a couple of (or maybe a score of) episodes of pinching him while he slept at night. But that’s okay. It can be overlooked.
Today, he is 12 years old. And evolution has failed to have any effect on him, whatsoever. He irritates me till I am ready to strangle him, or myself. Licks the TV remote so that I don’t touch it. Puts pictures of me inside the refrigerator and after a couple of hours asks me if I’m feeling cold or not. Imitates me for hours. Pulls my hair out and tapes it to his notebook and captions it as “Ana’s DNA”. Eats my chocolates. Tells on me. And really, if I start listing the things he does to bug me, this post will never end.

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My life. All of that, in loop.

But, all that been said, I guess I have to admit that my life would be as boring as the life of a staircase of an abandoned building without him. Atleast, with him around, I never get bored. Ever.  😀

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