Little Sisters

My two little sisters are growing up. Fast.

Yesterday, the fifteen-year-old one added me as a friend on Facebook. Once upon a time, Facebook was only for college students. The rest of the world was relegated to MySpace. Now, I have a dozen of her high school buddies (whom I’ve never met) popping up under friend requests.

Kayla is off tagging a million pictures of herself that I’ve posted over the last three years and commenting on the ones that offend her. I love the girl and everything she does amuses me, so I like the comments. I’ll especially like the ability to stalk her every wall post! She thought she got rid of me when I moved seven hours away. Wrong.

And just so all you boys of the Facebook world know, her brothers have accounts, too, and huge biceps. So, you’ll keep the free heart gifts to yourself if you know what’s good for you.

Sarah, the baby one, turned eight today. I’ll probably go on calling her a baby until she’s eighty-eight, but eight itself puts her so far beyond baby/toddler/little kid days. Dangerously, dangerously close to regular kid days and as her older sister, I like to think she’ll pull a Peter Pan and decide against growing up altogether. But, the fact that she sings Jonas Brothers songs now, rather than Twinkle, Twinkle, seems to be evidence working against that theory. The days Sarah friends me on Facebook will be the day I deactivate my account.

Separately, I think I could have handled the two developments without any issue. But the back-to-back day part was just too much.

So Kayla and Sarah, if you’re reading this, work on your shrinking skills.

And any other little sisters of the world, well, try to take it easy on your older siblings. Because every day you remind us that you’re growing up, we’re forced to confront the fact that we are, too.