I’ve got two host sisters now, 14 and 15, who hang on every novel thing I do, like making coffee with my new French press. “Can I have some with?” “Me too!”
Fortunately, I make wonderfully thick, bitter coffee, and told them it would stunt their growth; I don’t think will ask again.
When I was a big sister to a fifteen year-old, I was seventeen/eighteen, hated myself, and couldn’t fathom that someone else might look up to me. I wasn’t the age that fifteen year-old girls are eager to be; old enough that at fifteen it seems impossibly far away, exotically older, but not old. I’m not used this role model business. So I don’t think I’ll be watching movies in my room while drinking whole bottles of red wine this semester.
However, if I did, and my surrogate little sisters asked for sips of Korean red wine, it might put them off alcohol for life.