Two and three-quarters. That's precisely how old you were when your baby sister arrived, after many long months of anticipating her arrival.
I'd worried about your adjustment, about how you'd handle sharing my attention after two and three-quarters years of demanding most of it.
But from the beginning of Celia's life, you embraced her with joy and understood that she belonged with us. I will never forget coming home from the hospital with Celia snuggled in her car seat, walking my still tender body gingerly toward the front door, and seeing your colorful "Welcome Home Celia" sign and your face plastered against the glass, beaming.
You've had your moments of adjustment for sure, but they've been brief and uncharacteristic. Mostly, you've loved your sister. You've loved her not just in the typical toddler fashion - the plentiful smothering hugs and sloppy kisses - but you've also loved her with maturity and grace, learning to entertain yourself more as I take care of her, trying to understand what makes her sad and how you can help to fix it.
You are two and three-quarters my Ellie girl, but you are a little mother, a nurterer, a life-giver. Watching you become a big sister has been one of my greatest joys.