Someday I will be allowed to stop raising my sister. This is my great hope in life. Someday a problem will arise with Brynne and I won't hear about it until much, much later. Nobody will come to tell me the story and give me the plaintive look that just begs for me to do something about it. Nobody will send me an email explaining the situation, inquiring subtly as to what I think should be done, and if perhaps I could call her or email her, just to talk to her because she so needs her big sister. I will not have to be the one using the stern-but-loving, takes-no-shit-but-emotionally-available-and-understanding tone and facial expression, explaining to her why her behavior needs to be modified and suggesting ways in which she could do so. I will not have to deal with the immediate backlash of confrontation, which almost always has nothing to do with me but which I get to be the receptor of because I'm closest. Then she goes and does whatever it is she needs to do, because she knows that I'm right and because I know how to put things to her, but then she huffs at me because there is still the residual resentment of having to be stuck between being a tactless little kid, free of social responsibility, and being old enough to just know how it's done, that is so inherent to thirteen year olds. Someday she will grow out of that resentment. Someday she will understand that I get it, but that I have to take care of things. Someday we will stop being children. I just hope it happens before we both have kids of our own.
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