This article is about two weeks late at this point, but I suppose it's better late than never. You see, my baby sister has finally ventured into the realm of the internet. And seeing as this is the first article I've written for her, it's especially important for this to be perfect.

Paige Emmaleigh Rapp: You just turned twelve, and how crazy is that? In my head, I still see you as a three-year-old. It's hard for me to believe you've grown up so fast. I think I understand how mom and dad feel now when they say we make them feel old. Because that's exactly how I feel right now.

You, Paige, are very special to me. You're my baby sister, sure, but you're so much more than that. You are my mini-me. A little spitfire, never afraid to speak your mind. Your giggle is infectious, your smile contagious, and your spirit so full of joy that everyone around you can feel it.

Somehow I still remember you as your tiniest little self, scooting around the floor of Skrappaper saying "Bia bia bia!" because that was your happy noise at the time. It became your nickname, which slowly faded away over the years because you didn't like it anymore. But I'll always call you Bia because it reminds me of when you were little.

I remember all the times you covered yourself in a dozen eggs or a tub of butter, just because you could. I also remember that that's the reason we had to put child locks on the fridge.

I remember you as your three-year-old self, getting bitten on the lip by Bailey after getting in her face while she was sleeping. She loved you, but she loved her sleep more. We took you to the emergency room to get you checked out. You had to get stitches in your lip and let me tell you, that was no easy feat. You screamed and cried and kicked and fought until, finally, they had to strap you down and bribe you with the promise of a popsicle after they finished with you. I'll never forget how, as soon as we got home, you said "Uh-oh!" Mom and I came running only to find you standing in the bathroom, your lip bleeding, and your new stitches in your tiny hand.

I remember you as your five-year-old self, carrying sticks all around the park so you were prepared to poke any bear attackers in the eye and defend us. I hardly remember a time when you weren't carrying around a stick at the park.

There are so many things I remember. I remember every time you licked me because you knew it annoyed me, or elbowed me in the chest because you thought it was funny. Every time I got home from school or a trip, you hugged me so tight my head felt like it might pop off of my shoulders. Every time you were scared or tired, you held my hand.

I remember the nightmares you used to have. You would wake up screaming and wander into my room, tears running down your face, and lay in my bed until you felt better or fell asleep. Some nights you wouldn't make it as far as my room, so I would come sit in your bed and calm you down until you felt better.

And for as many times as you got mad at me and yelled that you hated me because I was making you and Sydney take turns picking movies, I remember a million more times that you told me you loved me and hugged me to make it up to me.

I love you so much, and for so many different reasons. I love how you never used to sit still long enough to take a picture that wasn't blurry. I love that you're always excited to see me. I love that you never fail to remind me (and everyone else around us) that we used to have the same color hair until I dyed it. I love that you always want to take selfies with me, especially if we can use a Snapchat filter. I love your strange obsession with rhubarb and collecting moss.

You're my best little friend, Paige. You have a special place in my heart that will always be there. Whenever you need me, wherever you need me, whatever you need me for, just remember that your big sister is always here for you — no matter what.

Happy birthday, Paigey. I love you lots.