Little Me

I miss being a child.

Little Me knew how to read for hours and hours on end because she still (shockingly) had an attention span. She'd shoot through novels and their prequels and sequels before mom could buy her new ones. She knew our local Barnes and Noble like the back of her hand. She wrote the first few chapters of multiple novels. If I still had those Word documents, I'm sure I'd miss Little Me even more.

Little Me knew how to get what she wanted. She wrote up a contract for our first family dog, promising to feed and water and walk it. She made a spreadsheet, to calculate exactly what chores she would have to do, and how long she'd have to do them, to earn enough allowance to get a pet rat with all the supplies for it. She took karate for years because she wanted to know how to fight.

(the rat's name was Skeeter, and I still remember her as the best pet I've ever had)

Little Me was a good sister. She knew how to make her sibling laugh. She knew how to make them feel better and how to bond with their friends without being in the way. She knew how to forgive when some very classic sibling-fights went on, as they do.

It's nice to remember how awesome Little Me was. I miss being a child.