Just so you don't get the wrong idea...

So I had a birthday. And I have a sister (well, three actually, but only one who appears in this story).

A few days after my birthday, Teeny presented me with a really cute homemade card (which informed me of my age and that I am, and I quote, a "HAAATCHILD (hot child)." Ha. I bet none of YOU can put that on your resumés.)

She also wrote me a letter about how cool I am:

Dear Elizabeth,

You are a great housekeeper!* Every time I go to your house, I have a blast! You make me feel welcome and appreciated. Thank you!

Love, Teeny

Now, before you think that I'm bragging by putting up someone else's compliments to me, let me finish the story.

I awwwed like a member of a studio audience and gave her a big hug. "Thank you for such a nice letter," I said.

"We had to write them for Young Women," she told me.

Don't get any ideas thinking I like you or anything, big sister.

This reminds me of the time when she was much younger and I was staying overnight at my parent's house and the only available bed (there were several guests) was Teeny's. She was so excited to share with her big sister (apparently I was cooler then), but when I got into bed that night her true feelings came out. She had been asleep for a few hours and had moved over to where I was supposed to sleep. I gently moved her back over to her side and when she grumbled in her sleep I told her quietly that I needed some room, too. Still fully out, she turned to me with a frustrated look and said, "Could you just please leave?" I nearly bit my tongue off trying not to laugh and wake up my other sister. In the morning, when I told Teeny about this, her eyes got wide and shocked and she cried, "I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it!" But I knew what she was thinking subconsciously.

And now it all comes out again.

I shouldn't be too surprised, though. I already knew she'd lost all respect for me when she decided to get tall.

Ah, well. At least she used me for her Young Women's project, right?

*Disclaimer: Do not read the following if you are a member of my immediate family, have visited my apartment or may visit my apartment at some point in the future.

Looks like I've managed to successfully fool her at least. My housekeeping skills usually only come into being about 45 minutes before someone, usually my family, is about to come over to visit. Then we panic and clean and throw all the spare junk into the bedroom and behind the bed where nobody can see it. Most of the rest of the time we live in slight squalor. Not real squalor -- I still have enough clean genes to avoid that -- but in the dirty-dishes-in-the-sink, yesterday's-and-probably-the-day-before's-clothes-strewn-about-the-room, piles-of-papers-everywhere-but-the-desk and for-goodness-sake-where-is-the-remote-control-and-my-left-shoe type of squalor. Easily concealable on short notice. But I'm still not comfortable enough to let other people see it, or to post pictures on the internet.