Chapter 3: The Arrival of My Little Sister and the “Great Betrayal”

At one year old, my world was all about me, me, and more me. I was the uncontested queen of my little realm, firmly installed at the center of my parents’ universe. Freshly graduated as a real estate broker, my mom took care of me with unwavering devotion, squeezing in cuddles and playtime between her budding career appointments. My father, on the other hand, was an airline pilot, often in the skies, so at home, I reigned supreme. All the attention, all the love—everything was mine and mine alone!

But clearly, my parents had some plans to shake up my little paradise. One day, while I was minding my own business, playing with my toys, I noticed something odd: my mother’s belly was growing rounder by the day. At first, I thought it was some sort of temporary situation—maybe from all the cookies she baked. But then, the bomb dropped. They told me a little sister was coming in November! At the time, I didn’t fully grasp what this meant for my exclusive arrangement with Mom. Actually, I was a little excited. My mom looked pretty funny waddling around with her big belly, and I figured this new “sister” thing would be like a new toy or pet. But that illusion shattered pretty fast.

The day my sister arrived was the day my world flipped upside down. Gone were the days of undivided attention and endless cuddles. Suddenly, all the “Oh, you’re so cute!”s and “Who’s the best little girl in the world?”s were redirected to the tiny intruder. My mom was completely absorbed, taking care of my sister around the clock. I, on the other hand, found myself on the sidelines, the ex-queen of the house, abruptly demoted.

As if to placate me, they gifted me my very first Cabbage Patch doll. She was a mini-baby just for me, my very own companion to care for, supposedly giving me a taste of “big sister” responsibilities. The idea, I’m guessing, was to keep me occupied so my mom could focus on the real baby without too many guilt pangs.

At first, it was all fun and games. My mom would tend to my sister, and I’d sit nearby, mimicking her every move with my Cabbage Patch doll. I’d rock her, wrap her in a blanket, and sometimes even pretend she was crying so I could shush her back to sleep. It was like we were playing “family,” and I felt very grown-up with my mini-baby in tow. But soon enough, reality set in. My Cabbage Patch doll never really cried, she didn’t call for me every five minutes, and as much as I tried, she didn’t have much to say. I started realizing that she wasn’t even close to replacing the time and attention I used to get from my mom.

That’s when the plan began to form. I decided I’d try to make a deal with my mom. After a few days of careful consideration, I gathered my courage and approached her, my Cabbage Patch doll clutched in one hand. “Mommy, can we take my little sister back to the hospital?” I asked, putting on my most persuasive toddler face. Surely, I thought, she’d see the logic in my proposal.

Of course, my request got a tender smile (with a slightly amused glint) from my mother. She knelt down to explain, in that soft way adults do when they’re trying to let you down gently, that my sister was here to stay and that she was part of our family forever. She assured me that her love for me hadn’t changed—there was just more love to go around now.

It took some time—okay, a lot of time—to adjust to this new setup. I spent a fair amount of time glaring at my sister and silently resenting her for robbing me of my queenly status. But eventually, as the days turned into months, I began to understand that my family had indeed grown. I started to see that my mother’s love wasn’t like a slice of cake, where more people meant smaller pieces. No, her love was more like a magical pot that kept expanding with each new person added to our little universe.

And slowly, I started to see the perks of being a big sister. My sister began to smile and laugh at my antics, and I found myself wanting to make her laugh again and again. I realized that there was something special about having someone look up to you—even if she didn’t really understand yet what that meant. And my mother was right: her love was all-encompassing, big enough for all of us—me, my sister, and even my Cabbage Patch doll, who continued to accompany me on my adventures as I grew into my new role.

Thus began a new chapter, not only in our family but also in my young life. I wasn’t the center of the universe anymore, but I was part of something even bigger. I learned, in my toddler way, that the heart has an extraordinary way of expanding, making room for new faces and, most surprisingly, more love than I’d ever thought possible.