I guess ill just start from the beginning then.
I was born in the end of March 2000 South Africa . It was a day just like any other for most but for a woman in a hospital bed it was one of the greatest days that would come to pass.
Crying i came into the world welcomed by a loving mother and father and a confused slightly jealous three years old sister.
Unaware of my surroundings or why i was being passed between people all with different reactions towards my existence i soon came to realize i wanted my mother and her alone. Crying and squirming in the arms of others they soon realized my preference.
I was nurtured and love by everyone in my family except my older red headed sister who saw me as a threat. She couldn't stand my cutesness and how i got more attention than her. But most of all she hated my premature babbling which only God understood.
She would refuse to share her toys or her personal space with me. Which is a baffling phenomenon since my first understandable word was "sisie". Our relationship would grow and evolve however she still refused me access to her things until one day when i decided no more and bit her.
From then she made peace with me and soon realized with great joy that she had a best friend.
I would like to think that i brought nothing but joy to my mother however that may not be the truth. Since i cried constantly due to my colic, keeping her awake at night, making her worry the whole of the day and never giving her a minute of her own. She would often take me on a drive through the night to calm me down which i loved and still do.
It became apparent the first few years of my life who i would depend on the rest of my life and who would be there always, since she did everything from feeding to cleaning to teaching and the hardest of all disciplining me. All out of unconditional love.
Walking at nine months i experienced a sence of limited freedom. Running after my bigger sister and trying to aviod the tail hits to the face from our enormous dogs would fill my days.
I was a happy yet strange child,with an obsession with a tiny broom i got for my first birthday. I would sweep and sweep futile but happily.
Stranger yet while other girls would play with dolls i would undress them, abandon them and play with the clothes.
The day i got my first bike was also the first day mother sincerely hoped i would break a leg she bought so that i wouldn't be able to ride on it anymore. You see i was a tiny daredevil. Riding at lightning speed dodging this way and that, barely avoiding collisions with the walls or tables.
All in all i was a happy baby and todler untill i had to start learning to talk and my mother saw something worring in my eyes.
