As the youngest of four, Sarah was "tortured" quite a bit as a baby/toddler. We thought it was hilarious to take her pacifier out of her mouth while she slept and watch her suck her tongue instead. And when she was just learning to talk, we trained her such that when we said, "Sarah, are you smart?" she'd reply, "No, I stupid!" with the biggest grin on her face. (She's not dumb. Gullible? Absolutely. Still is. But not dumb. At all. Never has been.) We didn't always torture her - we all had lots of fun playing with her in the snow. When she was about 2, we'd bundle her all up (which pretty much meant she could barely waddle), and then take her and toss her into the giant snow drifts in the yard. This may sound torturous, but I promise we always fished her out and she thoroughly enjoyed it.
When Sarah was little, like below, she thought I was super cool. Everything I did, and especially all my stuff, was really, really cool. I'm not gonna lie, the rock star-like admiration phase was fun.
When I moved away for college just after her 9th birthday, in the interest of familial peace, she moved into my room so that one of our brothers could move out of their shared room and into hers. This is when I became uncool: the summer of 2003. All summer I'd come upstairs to find her and one or more of her friends standing in the doorway to my room, making plans for when I moved out. They'd never go in, just hang out in the doorway and scheme. My freshman year when I came home for Thanksgiving, she had to share my old bed with me. I think it was about a day before she asked when I was going back to St Louis. At Christmas I got upgraded to a spare twin-size mattress on the floor of what used to be my bedroom while my sister slept in the full-size bed. This time I think it was about 3 days before she asked when I was leaving. Clearly I was cramping her style. The summer after my freshman year - the last time I lived at home - I also slept on the spare mattress on the floor, and she was forced to resign herself to my presence.
Her 10th birthday was that summer, and when I did cool things, like make her a (ridiculous) "tiered" birthday cake (at her request!) and facilitate whatever (somewhat bizarre) decorations she wanted, I was apparently ok.
(These were the early days of my dominating cupcake skills! While this particular decorating job was not my doing, my cake decorating tastes leaned more towards the utterly ridiculous in high school.)Sometime around late middle school was when I became tolerably cool again. Before she got her own cell phone, every time I talked to Dad on the phone, she'd interrupt and either ask him to talk to me or ask him to ask me whatever question she had. I tried to convince her that she could call me whenever she wanted; my cell phone number was posted next to the phone in the kitchen. But it wasn't until she got her own cell phone that she ever actually called me herself. Her first year or so of high school she'd call all the time, asking if I remembered this or that (I went to the same high school she goes to).
Now I think she mostly finds me annoying (possibly because I call her all the time purely for my own entertainment), but she's become one of the funniest, coolest people I know. At the risk of sounding mushy, I'd like to be like her when I grow up. I know I've posted my favorite picture of her before, but because it's her 16th birthday, I'll be nice and post a flattering recent picture of her.
Now I think she mostly finds me annoying (possibly because I call her all the time purely for my own entertainment), but she's become one of the funniest, coolest people I know. At the risk of sounding mushy, I'd like to be like her when I grow up. I know I've posted my favorite picture of her before, but because it's her 16th birthday, I'll be nice and post a flattering recent picture of her.
Happy 16th birthday little sister!! I love you!
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