Foolish Vanity

I had just finished giving Baby a bath and we were talking with her mother on the phone when we ran into this picture:

It's from a dance recital, taken by our grandfather.  I was always jealous of my sister's blue sailor's outfit.  It was so pretty and well, she was always so pretty.  Without thinking, I expressed this to Baby.  She kept insisting that her mother was beautiful too, which I agreed with.  "Between Sarah and I, though, she was always the prettier one."

Later, Baby pulled out her dolls to watch part of a movie with me.  Carefully, she pulled out her Anna and Elsa dolls and placed them beside us.  Stroking Anna's red hair, she said.  "Elsa is always, always the prettier one.  But today, Anna is the prettier one."

I smiled at Baby.  "Are you trying to make me feel better about not being the pretty sister when I was younger?"

Baby nodded.  And then she continued, "But, Erin, not everyone gets to be the prettiest.  Someone has to be prettier.  Why not let your sisters be prettier?"  (Almost as though she was telling me that I don't always get to play with the toys; I have to wait my turn)

Essentially, why not just be happy to have such wonderfully beautiful sisters?  Why not rejoice in their admirable qualities rather than fume that I don't possess those same qualities?  Why couldn't I have learned this lesson when I was younger?  Still working on learning this lesson today...