Fourteen years ago today, my youngest sister was born. For the longest time, I wanted my mom to name her Marcy. I've since gotten over liking that name, even remotely, and so I am really glad that my parents went with Mackenzie.
On the morning she was born, my mom's friend Sue came over to take us to school. The hotel that housed El Sombrero had set on fire the night before, and Sue drove us to see the smoldering building before dropping us off.
I loved Mackenzie from the instant I saw her. She was the most ADORABLE, BEAUTIFUL baby I have ever seen. To this day. Her dark curly hair and little button nose was just, so precious.
I am told that Mackenzie is very similar to me. In fact, my dad calls her my "twin." I'm not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing. Though, as I was told tonight, it is probably not a bad thing as long as she has learned to budget her money much better than I have.
Here's hoping that is true.
I spent most of my teenage years babysitting Mackenzie, and now that she is grown and able to take care of herself (I assume that she is able to...) it's been fun to get to know her as an individual and more mature person. Though, it is still weird to figure out exactly how mature I'm supposed to anticipate. One second, I think I can talk about just anything and the next minute, I'm wishing she would grow up a little faster. Some days, she's just the little girl that could be coerced into "hip-atizing" everyone, and other days, she's the stubbornest young lady.
You would think as the baby of the family, we would have been able to get her to do whatever we wanted her to do. But the truth is - if she didn't want to do it, she didn't. That doesn't mean we never had her sneak us Pringles into our parent's bed while we were watching TV, or get us a drink... but she must have done that out of the kindness of her heart, because she certainly wouldn't have done otherwise.
Happy birthday, my darling sister! I love you!
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