Missing Lyssie

Alyssa spent most of the weekend with my step-dad and J, my niece. She spent Friday and Saturday nights with them and even though Olivia and I rode the bike over on Saturday afternoon and she spent a good hour in the pool with A and J, she was so very ready for her sister to be home on Sunday.

When Alyssa did finally get home on Sunday, O couldn’t contain her joy. She ran around the room like a maniac for at least a half hour, throwing herself at Alyssa every few minutes, making Alyssa wrestle or just sit and hold each other.

Alyssa laughed and said, “I think she missed me.”

Oh yes, yes she did. As much as Olivia loves me, I’m not nearly as much fun as her wild and crazy sister. I don’t run from room to room with her, watching silly movies, drawing fun pictures, pretending to be a horse or a wolf or even a teacher and making Olivia do ‘homework.’

By the end of Sunday, though, it was obvious that Alyssa was tired from her adventure with Pawp and J. She started snapping at her sister for minor infractions, things that weren’t even directed at Alyssa herself.

I finally suggest that Alyssa take herself to her room where she could rest, read, be alone without an annoying little sister’s voice grating on that last nerve that was obviously so frayed.

Five minutes after Alyssa escaped to her room, Olivia came to find me, asking forlornly, “Did Lyssie go back go Grams? Is she going to stay at Gram’s forever now?”

Poor baby.

As soon as I assured her that Lyssie was just upstairs, O went back to her dolls, fine with playing alone for a bit longer as long as she knew her sister was still in the same house, that she’d come down in a while, less fractious, more willing to play again.