I remember the first time I saw my baby sister. I was with my Nanan Jan and Granddad Jim, wearing some sundress or other (I had a lot of those) and a fleece. I knew that I looked like a complete scruffbag but, upon seeing my mum, I decided that I had never seen anyone look that bad in my whole life. I was used to seeing Mummy in pretty vests with red in her hair. She looked ruined.
There was a little blurry bit here, although I distincly remember my mum's sister being there, on the left side of the bed. I went to the plasic cot by the window and peered in. Big gray-blue eyes and rosy freckled cheeks. My baby sister Ellie, I was told.
There was discussion over her middle name. I flicked back my blonde hair and in a sweet four-year-old's voice, piped up 'What about Rose?' All eyes in the room turned to me. I pushed my shyness away, determined to be involved in the life of my baby sister. 'She has rosy cheeks, pretty rosy cheeks. I want her to be Ellie Rose.'
I swear that when I next looked into the cot, baby Ellie Rose smiled up at me in her approval. I think that even if they'd have said they didn't like Rose, she would have always been Ellie Rose to me.
Ellie Rosy Cheeks is nine now. She has ginger hair to match the freckles and, sadly, loves Spongebob Squarepants.
I still love her though.