I was 14 when Alexandra was born, and, despite my mom and stepdad’s best efforts, I’ll admit — it was tough relating with my sister. When you’re in high school and interested in things like grades, popularity and boys, it’s not so easy to have a solid, sit-down heart-to-heart with your sister who is learning how to walk, graduating from diapers, and spitting up on almost everything. When I took her places, I got the “Oh, what a cute daughter!” “She’s not my daugh…” “It’s okay, I don’t judge.” So yes, in our earlier years, it was slightly challenging to create the sisterly “bond” my parents had hoped and prayed would blossom out of the simple fact that we were sisters, and sisters are supposed to be best friends, so why were we not?, etc.

This has all started to change — quickly. My sister is suddenly eons more mature than most girls her age. Sure, she’s interested in all the same things as other pre-teens: sleepovers, T-Swift and Justice (formerly my pre-teen favorite store, Limited, Too!), to name a few. But unlike most people her age — and even those much older — she “gets it.” What sixth grader talks about politics? She does. Gives her older sister dating advice? She does. “Katie, look. I’ve watched you and how you act with your [now ex-] boyfriend. He’s a jerk! Katie, you used to smile all the time. If a boy can’t make you smile, he isn’t worth your time. It’s that easy. You need someone who actually makes an effort to make you smile and makes you feel good about yourself.” (To which Goldie, her 70-something-year-old nanny and I slowly turn to one another, eyebrows raised). That’s when she was 10.

That girl’s brain is an incredibly well-organized sponge, with kernels of wisdom she’s absorbed that are carefully stored away and easily accessible when implementation is necessary. And, as all older sisters know — little sisters watch you like a hawk. You may not realize it, but they remember every boyfriend who did you wrong, how you handled it, and why he sucked so much (she was listening, carefully). Here I thought that my years of dating and venting to my mom and friends had gone straight over her head.

Not so much.

Today, my mom broke the big news: Alexandra has a boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Sixth grade, eleven years old. Boyfriend. My baby sister is dating a boy. A real, live, voice-cracking, middle school boy. This is real life. This is happening. I couldn’t believe my ears.

When I was 11, my general interests consisted of lizards, Furbies and tinted lip gloss, if I was feeling particularly bold. Boys? Sure, I had crushes on them. Did they ask me out? Let’s be real. My “pixie” haircut I mistakenly imagined would make me appear fashionable that really made me look like a boy because I was yet to hit puberty and wasn’t allowed to wear makeup didn’t exactly appeal to the gentlemen in my sixth grade class. No, I was not turning heads, so I went back to my lizards and green Razor scooter.

Apparently, the boys in Alexandra’s class feel differently about her. Terrifying and yet pride-inspiring for her older sister? Of course. I called her on her cellphone (because now all the kids have those, too, at the young age of eleven).

“Hellllllooo?”

“Hi Alexandra.”

“Oh, hey Katie. What’s up.”

“I hear you have some big news.”

“Yeahhhh… I do.”

“A boyfriend?”

“Hehe, yup.”

“What’s his name?”

“Pierce.”

“Oh, that’s a good name. Like Pierce Brosnan!”

“Who?”

“Nevermind. So how did he ask you?”

“Well, so my friend went up to him a little while back and asked him if he liked anybody in our grade, because she knew I liked him so she had to ask for me (Fact: it’s a law, apparently, that no middle school girl shall ever approach her crush head-on. A designated friend must act as the medium to talk up all positive traits of said girl to said crush). But then my enemy was standing right there and said, ‘Oh, she’s asking because Alexandra has a HUGE crush on you.'”

— Side Note — Said little boy grinned ear-to-ear when he heard my sister had a crush on him. Enemy’s plan foiled.

“So yesterday, he passed me a note in class asking if I’d go out with him. On the outside I was like, ‘Oh, yeah, sure thing.’ Because I had to play it cool, you know? Like you always do. (I learn something new about myself every day.) But on the inside I was like, ‘OH MY GOSH, YES, HOLY COW, YES, BOO YA!!!'” (boo ya to said enemy I mentioned above).

“Wow, that’s awesome! I don’t think I had a boyfriend in sixth grade.” (Me “playing it cool” like she mentioned — I most definitely did not have a boyfriend in sixth grade). “I think a guy sort of asked me out in seventh grade, but we never actually saw each other or hung out.”

“Oh yeah, well duh.” (Duh?) “It’s not anything like you and Cole. I’m in sixth grade. It’s really just a silly title, not like actual, serious dating.”

Thank. God. Because in seventh grade, breaking up with aforementioned seventh grade boyfriend via my friend Claire in a strongly worded note felt like a mini-divorce. Or, as one of my other friends said when I broke the news about Alexandra’s boyfriend situation to her, “In sixth grade, I would have been convinced I was marrying the guy some day.” Didn’t we all think every one of our middle school and high school boyfriends were the loves of our lives?

Luckily, my sister had watched me date all my high school, college and post-college boyfriends, and therefore brilliantly concluded that sixth grade romance was nothing more than a “silly title.” She has plenty of years of heartbreak and embarrassment from Russ, but I’m proud of her (and slightly embarrassed by it) for watching me all these years and learning that in the end, the dating game eventually works itself out — hopefully. In the meantime, I hope she continues to enjoy these romances for what they are, and when she does find the real thing some day, I hope she’s learned well from her older sister what a keeper really looks like.