My baby started college this week.
And yes, I am fully aware that I am twenty-nine years old and have yet to give birth. I mean this baby:
My darling Little Chip (a.k.a. Baby Sister).
I was eleven and a half when she was born, so naturally I adopted her as my own child, seeing as she was an infant/toddler during most of my teen years. Talk about great birth control. Just kidding, I was a Good Girl in high school and a painfully self-conscious theatre geek, which is birth control enough on its own.
My participation in her childhood was basically all of the fun with little of the work. Who wouldn’t want to mother this little cherub?
She was like our family mascot because she was so darn cute and giggly. A little elfkin. I don’t think I got annoyed with her once during the entirety of her childhood, and that’s an anomaly in ordinary inter-sister relationships. Just ask anyone who has played the “but I’m NOT touching you!” game in the backseat of a car.
Nene and I would do this to her:
And she would not only let us torture her thus, she reveled in this sisterhood-bonding ritual. It was like having a real-live baby doll, except she smelled like Johnson & Johnson baby shampoo and was a terrific snuggling partner. She is now a grown lady, but I still think of her like this:
And this week she started college. *Sniffle.*
For her prom, I got to doll her up one more time, my sweet girl who I can’t even rightfully call girl anymore.
Is this the reason I keep hearing “Sunrise, Sunset” playing in my head? Next thing you know I’ll be holding hands with Topol and misty eyed as Little Chip’s husband steps on the ceremonial glass and we all carry candles to their wedding ceremony. Even though we aren’t Jewish.
What a sentimental mess I’m going to be if I ever actually become a mother. I already feel sorry for my unborn children.
Here’s a picture to distract myself: