Embrace the Circus

She's a feisty little sister.

She runs and plays with the big kids. She believes she's a big kid, I just know it. She and her sister concoct elaborate imaginary events -- trips on airplanes, rescues of their friends, 99 course dinners cooked at their wooden kitchen. They are equal parts best friends and archenemies, reluctant to be separated, but as inclined to hug as they are to squabble.

She'll stand her ground. Maybe even steal some, if you're not paying attention.

She's not afraid of . . anything. Well, certainly not afraid of getting hurt. Possibly afraid of "scary" noises and "scary" Halloween decorations and certainly needing a bit of reassurance in the middle of the night.

She sings at the top of her lungs -- the Notre Dame Victory March, children's songs, hymns from church.

She begs to be tickled, her laughter spilling over into otherwise ordinary days.

And she's fiercely, fiercely, protective of her baby brother -- hopelessly in love with "her baby." She races to get him when he wakes, to soothe him when he cries, to fetch him toys and teethers and treats (rice rusks).

What a blessing to watch a little sister become a big sister.