Baking without directions

You’re beautiful. On the inside and out.

You honor God in little, everyday ways.

You’re not afraid to be your wild, weird self. (Except those first couple sleepovers, those were pretty painfully awkward.)

You make me laugh (and make me roll on the floor laughing). And I love how when we’re  together we’re not afraid to be giddy weirdos (even in public).

When I’m with you I feel like all my problems disappear.

You help me with my chores… and sometimes totally do them for me. On your own.

We’ve taken two-hour naps in the middle of the day, when you’re over, cause sometimes… we’re quite lazy.


We have an awesome handshake. Okay, it’s kinda weird. And we’re not very good at it yet. But, hey, we have our own, original handshake!

You’re aggressive and nerve-racking when we play Blink. And we can play it for hours. (Even though it’s a game for 5-year-olds to learn their shapes and colors.)

We can jam out to any song together. (Especially Florida Georgia Line, no matter how much I get sick of them.)

I love how much my sisters love you.

I love how my dad can tease you like you ARE a sister. And you roll with the punches and laugh along with us.

I love how my whole family misses you when we haven’t seen you in a while.

We can talk for hours non-stop. And sometimes we can sit in silence forever and not feel awkward at all.

We stink at reading the directions when we’re baking together, but the food always turns out fine. (Like that batch of banana bread.)

We make an amazing batch of cinnamon buns.

I’m thankful we didn’t let those first sleepovers stop us from becoming best friends. And I love how much you’ve become part of my family. I’ll always be here for you.

Love ya.



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