The Mooster, our 12 year old niece, arrived yesterday. The brave thing flew over the ocean all by herself with her lacrosse stick in tow. (Lacrosse being a sport which, according to Hubster, was invented by the British. He really is full of it most days, isn't he?)
It was very strange to find my sister standing in the arrivals area. It took me a second to realize that it was really Mooster I was seeing. Why hadn't anyone told me how much she's come to look like her mother? I wanted to cry and jump up and down at the same time.
Here was my sister's child. My sister's oldest child. Beautiful and confident, acting as if it was every day she flew internationally, telling me about all the people she met since leaving the US only hours before.
Did I mention how much she's like my sister?
When I asked her if she slept on the plane, she said, "No, no. I never sleep on planes."
When I asked her if she was tired, "No, no. I'm great as long as there's sunlight."
I love the way a 12 year old tries to defy the natural laws of jet lag.
The rest of the day, she kept asserting that she wasn't tired. No, not her, she didn't get tired. No really, she was fine. Not tired at all. No ma'am. Not tired. Nope. Not at all. Not sleepy.
I left her for a little bit to attack the jungle of weeds growing around my carrots in the garden. When I came back to the house an hour later, I found her sound asleep on the couch.
I left her there for a while and when 4 o'clock rolled around, I woke her the same way I always used to wake my sister when she would nap on our parents' couch.
"Mooster. Mooooooster, " I said while tickling her feet. "Time to come play."
Luckily for me, she didn't wake up the same way my sister usually did, i.e. first telling me to stop it and when I wouldn't, start shouting my name, demanding to be left alone, and then finally jumping from the couch, threatening physical violence, chasing me away.
Perhaps it's a touch of her father that Mooster didn't do that too.
Regardless, it's nice having her here already.