Bree tells me it’s December. She likes to count down the days to Christmas, scratching off the numbers each day on an old calendar she found. She does it with such enthusiasm, I can’t bring myself to tell her we’re nowhere near December. I won’t tell her that her calendar is three years old, or that we’ll never get a new one, because they stopped making them the day the world ended. I won’t deny her her fantasy. That’s what big sisters are for.
thats such a nice thing to do for a younger sibling
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