A family member

In this blog we have to write about someone from our family.

In this opportunity I’m going to write about my little sister Catalina. She was ten years old now. She was born when my sister and I was 13, so, as we were “big enough” we had to help my mother to take care of her -cause my father, like most of men I know, was useless on parenting issues-. We bathed her, changed her, made her sleep or gave her food, and obviously, play with her.

She was a pretty baby, the first good looking baby I ever seen if I have to be honest, and know is a tall and skinny little girl in who every cloth looks good, even with all the stains she got for her careless hyperactivity and her frequent disinterest in personal presentation. But It’s normal at her age, I prefer she to be like this, playing, screaming and doing crazy things instead of be worried of, let’s say it this way, “teenage dramas”. The only matter in what I hope she was less carefree was on her grades at school.

Our relationship always was close -It’s my sister, please, we are Latin- but of a time to this part we made a stronger bond, where she seeks much more support in me and I feel more responsible about her well-being; she told me her trivial matters when she arrive from school, her problems and concerns and sometimes surprise me with deep questions that come out of the bottom of that little head.