My sister had a Dancerina doll.
She loved that doll. And she let me play with it whenever I wanted.
She was very nice like that.
I acted like I didn’t care about the ballet doll. I mean, how juvenile.
But when she wasn’t home, I’d take it out of the closet (why did she keep it in the closet? Hmmm. Can’t remember) anyway, when she wasn’t home, I’d take it out and play with it. I’d watch it spin around and around.
We’re all grown up now. And I realize this was one of those things that we did have in common despite our age difference (which seemed much greater then) and I didn’t take advantage of it. I wish I’d spent more time being nice to her. She was always nice to me.
Last night at dinner my guys were picking on each other. Well two of them at least. It was normal sibling stuff. But it made me sad, remembering that I wasn’t the big sister that I wish I had been when I was young. I hope that when they grow up, my boys look back and know that they were the brothers they’d hope they had been.