21

This month my baby boy, Champ, will turn 21 months old.

This year my baby sister, Clare, will turn 21 years old.

I want to cry with how the time has passed. It really wasn't that long ago that my sister was 21 months old. Really.

My baby sister has been my substitute daughter. I was 8 when she was born; the right age to want to help Mum out with all the Mummy tasks. I paced the floor while she screamed through long afternoons when Mum was too tired (she was a screamer as a child, I can not emphasise that word enough), I sat watching tv folding her cloth nappies for hours, I watched proudly all of her toddler dress up and singing performances both at home and on stage, I cried bucket loads the first day she told me that some rotten kid had called her names at school. She is now such a great friend to me. She has been my single biggest helper outside of our household since Champ has been born, coming over for a whole day each week to keep me company (and sane in the early days) and play endlessly with Champ while I get things done.

Champ will sometimes pick up my handbag, or his nappy bag, or anything that looks like a bag and hangs it over his shoulder saying 'Bye, (see you) soon.' as he walks towards the front door. I just know that the time will fly so fast until he will be turning 21 years old and his little 'goodbye' charade will be reality.

And I want to cry.