That morning, my sister called me unusually early. She had just given birth, was utterly exhausted, and begged for a small favor – could I watch the baby for a couple of hours so she could finally get some sleep?

Of course, I said yes. My daughter and I adored that tiny girl.
My six-year-old was thrilled that she rocked her cousin carefully, stroked her soft hair, and hummed lullabies in her sweet little voice.

Everything felt serene: soft laughter, the faint scent of milk, and the peaceful rhythm of a quiet afternoon.

After a few hours, though, the baby stirred and started crying loudly. I figured she needed a diaper change.

My daughter, eager as ever to prove she was “grown up,” jumped up to help.

I spread out a clean cloth, gently laid the baby on it, and unfastened her diaper. Continues…