Little Sister

So when I went to the Memorial Service this weekend, I didn’t want to go alone. Because who wants to go alone? Am I right? (The answer is yes, you’re right. No one wants to go alone.)

So I picked up my brother and took him with me.

An interesting (to me) thing happened when I did. I turned into Little Sister again. I asked him to tell me which was the fastest route to the freeway. Which exit to take. Where to turn. Where to park. Which door to enter. Where to sit. I needed him to tell me All the Things to do. I asked him about a hundred times, “Is that _________?” “Who’s that lady?” I must have been the world’s most obnoxious little sister. I mean, Saturday. Okay, also in all of the past. I had him drive from the mortuary to the cemetery. (That’s because I was in Husband’s car, and it’s fun to drive. Because I can totally find the Salt Lake City Cemetery all by myself.) (I can.)

Does this happen to everyone? Is this a Thing? Because I’m certain it was the most natural reversion in the world.