'Cause Every Day the Teddy Bears Have Their Picnic

Days before I turned five-years-old, my little sister, Kathy, entered the world. I remember being disgusted by the idea that another girl was joining our family. We already had me, what did we need another one for?? And for so many years, she seemed SO much younger than I. She would get into my stuff, destroy my Barbie's hair and dig out the eye shadows in my Barbie play makeup! Hmpf...I didn't have much use for her. But then something crucial happened. When I was 15, my parents moved us from Orem to Provo into this teeny, old house. The first night, Kathy and I were relegated to the freezing basement, complete with no walls and an inch of dirt on the floor. I remember crying and thinking they must really not like their children anymore. And who listened to my tears? None other than my little sister! For the first time, we were being made to share a room. I couldn't believe that my parents (who had obviously lost their minds!) were making their lovely, budding teen share her private space with an immature 10-year-old. I loved organization, and she was such a little pig. I threatened to hang a curtain, draw a masking tape line she would never dare to cross, move her bed into the bathroom...anything to keep the sanctity of "my space"! It was definitely new territory for us...and now, I couldn't be more grateful for the struggle! Fast forward a few years, a few experiences and a few shared moments: that straggly little girl with her big blue eyes and naturally curly hair is one of my very best friends. I adore her and all the amazing talents she possesses that are so different than mine! So, when I witness a moment such as this picnic between my own two princesses, my heart is warmed. The difference? My sweet Natasha has loved her Fynnley from day one. And vice-versa. They have a sweet bond that I can only pray will last for eternity. And, P.S., Kath, I love you...