As your older sister, I could use this post to tell embarrassing stories like the time you used Tupperware as drums and screamed “TOODLES MOMMAY!” over and over at the top of your lungs while Chad and I hid in the bathroom until we thought it was safe to come out, but I’m not going to do that.

Instead, I’m going to tell a story…about you (no kidding).

As soon as I found out Mom was having another baby (she sure can pop them out, 4 kids under 6…Go Mom!), I knew it would be a girl.  No matter how much people tried to warn me that it might be another brother, I had convinced myself that I was getting a sister.
I wanted you SO BAD!

I was nearly six the night you were born, but I can remember every detail. I was sleeping in a pitch black room when Angella came in and woke me up.
“Dayna, you have a baby sister.”

I only smiled and fell back to sleep, content, because I had thought about you so much, knowing you had arrived was expected (and let’s face it, I am SO out of it when I get woken up that I don’t really understand what’s going on).

The next day we all went to the hospital to meet you (wearing the latest fashion, of course.)

Dear.Lord.Why?

Little did I know, Chad had wanted you really bad too.  So bad, in fact, that he held you too tight and would scream and cry if we tried to take you away from him (could both of you please remember this moment when you’re in the throws of an adolescent screaming match? kthx).

When I pried you from Chad’s hands and held you, I thought to myself, “She’s MINE!”
Not to make my lil bros jealous, I love them just as much too…but at that age, I was getting sick of dressing them up as women (no matter how much they seemed to enjoy it):

I needed the real deal, which I found in you:

please don't kill me for posting this

Now, You are 15.  FIFTEEN! You’ve turned into a bit of a mini-me, so much so that certain people *cough*Marissa*cough* are using you as my replacement when I leave.  I guess it was inevitable seeing as we’ve shared a room, clothes, hairstyle (you copycat), *ahem* attitude, and oh yeah, the same gene pool. 

 But you are definitely your own person, and an AWESOME one at that:

Happy Birthday, Courtney!  I love you, and remember that I’m making you a yummy/pretty cake to make up for any embarrassment.