When I was ten, the first big event that I kept dreaming about happened. My sister.
When father and mother informed me about a sibling on the way, the only thing I said was: «It was time, already.»
Mother was glad that I accepted the news without frowns. She became even happier when I suggested a name to her.
In my past life, it had been quite a hassle. Father couldn't decide, and the baby lived unnamed for almost a week.
To be sincere, I didn't do that on purpose.
I only made a casual comment. «When Martia is born, I'll teach her how to walk. I don't want her to trip randomly.»
«Martia?» mother asked, confused.
«My sister,» I explained, and her eyes widened.
«What if it's a brother?» she inquired, maybe worried that I would fear competition.
«Oh, it won't be. I wanted a brother to play sword, but I'll have to cope with a sister. Of course, I'll still teach her how to play with a sword. Why didn't I think of this before?»
