«I wanted to be a mum rather than a sister»

I was almost exactly six and a half years old when my little sister Katja was born. It was truly a huge sensation for the whole family - of course it was. And even though both my parents certainly tried to prevent it, from then on everything centred around our new addition to the family.
I was mighty proud. I was finally a schoolchild and now also had the honour of being called «big sister». Without anyone telling me to, I immediately ascribed great responsibility to myself. I felt a special obligation to this little creature, who was always well wrapped up and tightly swaddled in hundreds of cloths and nappies on our sofa. I wanted to treat it better than my favourite dolls and teach it all the important things: I wanted to be like a second mum.

I was also incredibly proud when my little sister said my name for the first time, even if she misused it gently - «Tina» became «Titti». It was highly amusing to observe that my parents and grandparents suddenly also had problems pronouncing words correctly: «Gulli, gulli guutschiii bubuuuu Mausiii ...» - Our use of language changed dramatically; I took it in my stride.
My room really changed too, and I was anything but relaxed about that. As soon as the cot was moved from my parents' bedroom into my room, the little devil Katja revealed herself to me for the first time. When the little one was «teething», she screamed her head off every night - and me out of my sleep. Even my carefully arranged Barbie dolls and Playmobil cities were doomed when she started to crawl. As a neat freak, I immediately realised when my mother had tried to put the mess back in order. Yes, my sister meant work, I quickly realised.

She's the lively one, I'm the thinker - we couldn't be more different.

Today I'm almost 18 and my sister is 11, so my «little» sister isn't so little anymore. At 11, she is almost twice as old as I was when she was born, and yet I have the impression that she is so much younger than I was. Maybe she just misses that feeling of «responsibility», as she was - and still is - our «little one» from the very beginning. Over time, each of us has sort of carved out our own role and settled into it. I am still the calm mind, the thinker, the quiet observer, the order and responsibility personified. My sister - the complete opposite: the restless, lively type, the impulsive one, the temperamental and energetic one. That's how it was from the beginning, and that's how it will always be.
The only difference: where I was explaining our toy cash register to Katja not so long ago, she is now learning how to use the iPad, smartphone etc. from me, and where I used to impress her with animal names, we now prefer to talk about Lady Gaga. Where a few years ago I had to protect her from life-threatening marbles and beads, today I keep imaginary bitches and nasty boys away from her in the school playground.
Incidentally, she can also help me with the (nasty) boys. In addition to all the small and big sufferings and joys in our «little sister - big sister» relationship, she has another incredibly practical benefit for me: A little sister is the perfect excuse to cancel annoying dates. No matter how old she actually is now - she's always «little» enough to use «babysitting» as a credible excuse for cancelling a date.
Katja was always my little one, is my little one and will always be my little one. Little sister remains little sister - forever.