I always thought I would never compare my children. After all, they’re two entirely separate beings, with different personalities, interests and most probably skills. How could I compare them? And being a younger sister myself I was never a fan of always being known as “x’s sister”.
But when I was pregnant with C I started thinking about it again. In my head, G was a perfect blend of my husband and I. Surely our offspring would inevitably be like, well, G?
And after C arrived I found myself comparing purely so I could better understand what made her unique and different to her big sister.
But there are times when I just have to accept that C and G have both come from the same tree. Like when I put C in this hand me down dress and realised there was a picture on the wall of G wearing the same dress, at around the same age.
C might have slightly longer and slightly less blonde hair, and have her own distinctive personality traits, but there’s really no denying that they are sisters, is there?