Siblings ain't always of the same generation.
My beautiful bride is a 50's treasure. Her baby sister is from the 70's era. Sometimes the Lord's plan for family plannin' don't track our own?
Anyway, we raise our own families and take appropriate pride in their accomplishments, grieve at their losses, and generally enjoy the process.
The thing is, if there is a sufficient age gap, we have the privilege of experiencing similar emotions with siblings. Our chests swell with their progressive academic and professional credentials. We brag to our friends about their new job, promotion, or status with a Fortune 500 company. And best of all, we cry tears of joy at the birth of their children who we adore as nieces and nephews.
The rubber that meets this country road is that we got us a PEACH. The bride's baby sister is a brilliant, professionally accomplished go-getter who also happens to birth the world's most precious ankle biters/rug rats that Gabriel Mills ever spawned.
Now if we can just teach 'em to yell "HEY" at the beginning of every phone conversation?
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