My little–my little–sister Lissa turned 18 years old today. Although she is much wiser, kinder, and smarter than anyone my age or Dane’s age or your mom’s age, she can’t be 18 years old.
She’s just…too little:
She has really little hands, and feet, and a really tiny head. Sometimes you can’t even see her.
Most 18 year olds are pretty mad because they hate everything and everyone around them. Lissa, well, she’s just too happy:
And when she smiles she squints her right eye–weird.
Most 18 year olds can be really mean. But, Lissa, she’s too nice:
And unconcerned with how she looks:
But she is always beautiful. Especially in her flannel dress (which I wish I had a picture of).
Also, Lissa doesn’t even own a cell phone and she hates Facebook. She likes things like “reading,” and “working,” and playing things like sports. How could she ever be 18 years old?