It was only days after my seventh birthday, and Dad had woken me up in the middle of the night, wrapped me in a blanket, and carried me out to the car. He explained that tonight was the night I was going to get my little sister.

It felt like a late birthday present. I was so excited, squirming in my seat as Dad drove to the hospital. My memory was blurred, but I vaguely recalled Dad leaving me in the lobby with a smiling nurse who gave me crayons and a coloring book.

I was sleepy, but I was too excited to lay down. I sat in one of the chairs and pulled out a pink crayon, beginning to color in the picture of the flower. I wondered how long it would be until I could meet my baby sister.

I didn't know how long it was, but it felt like forever before I finally grew tired and dozed off. My cheek came down on the coloring book and the crayon fell out of my hands, dropping on the floor and rolling underneath another chair.

After a deep, dreamless sleep, I was woken up by someone smoothing down my matted blonde hair. When I looked up, Dad was smiling at me, his bright blue eyes so like my own crinkling at the corners. "Do you want to come and see her?" he asked.

I was suddenly wide awake, my naive blue eyes huge. I knew that my parents were planning on naming my little sister Clare, and I couldn't wait to see her. Would she look like Mom, who a dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty, or like Dad--fair hair and light eyes?

When I asked Dad this question, he took my hand and helped me out of the chair. My cheek stuck to the coloring page where I'd been drooling a little in my sleep. "We won't know what she'll look like when she's all grown up now," he said. "But we'll find out after she gets older."

I followed Dad into a room, where a white bed with rumpled white sheets was at one end. Mom was inside, holding the tiniest human being I'd ever seen.

Dad put his finger to his lips, and I nodded before padding across the room in my socks and leaning forward to look at my new baby sister. Her hair was barely visible, light as golden sun, and her eyes were closed--she was clearly sleeping. Ever so gently, I leaned forward and kissed her forehead, soft as a flower petal.

"I love you, Clare," I whispered as I drew back, looking up at Mom. She was smiling tiredly as she held her new baby. With the four of us standing in that small hospital room, I felt safer and more happy than I'd ever been--I had a new little sister and the best parents I could ask for. What more could a seven-year-old want?

It was, without a doubt, the best day of my life.