17 years

Once upon a time, there was a 17 year old schoolgirl.

At the end of her final year at school, her aunty gave birth to a beautiful, brown-eyed baby boy.

From the day he was born, that tiny cousin was adored. He grew into a gorgeous little boy, funny, sweet and obsessed with trains. The schoolgirl spent a lot of time with him, and loved every minute.

When James was two, his brother was born. Another beautiful, brown-eyed babe.

Together, James and Andrew spent a lot of time with the schoolgirl.

By this time, she was at uni, and lived not very far away from her baby cousins in the city.

Her favourite days were the ones spent building train tracks on the floor, playing outside in the sandpit, and watching the (fledgling) Wiggles on video.

She loved her little cousins to bits. They were never naughty for her, only mischievous. Even when, one Christmas Day, Andrew stuffed his cheeks with the entire contents of the bread basket and then vomitted all over the kitchen floor, she thought those boys were awesome.

Still does.

Today, a 17 year old schoolboy played for hours with the Mouse.

His 15 year old brother did too.

The two of them were endlessly patient and indulgent. Every giggle she burbled was adorable. Every miaow she uttered was hilarious.

The Mouse's mother watched James and Andrew play with her daughter, and smiled. It had been magical, knowing her cousins since the day they were born. Watching them grow from chubby babies, to cheeky toddlers, to towering, clever, funny, kind teenagers.

It was even more magical, watching them continue the love with her own baby, 17 years later.