Dear The Boy
Today I was having a clean out. You tried to help, then got bored and insisted on attempting to throw yourself off the top of your sister's new bunk bed. Again.
Anyway. I came across two perfectly lovely baby books that I received as gifts when you were born. At the time I remarked how pretty they were. Sent 'Thank You' cards and lovingly put them on the shelf in the nursery vowing to start filling them in after the initial rush of having two small children calmed down.
Two years on? They remain as pristine and as empty as they day I got them. Taunting me every time I go into your room. Judging me. Insinuating to The Gruffalo and The Mr Men series that I do not love you as much as I love my first child. Well snore off beautiful baby books. I do! OK, my daughter has two scrapbooks lovingly marking each milestone with shabby chic stickers and beautiful sayings. You have one hastily shoved together photo album I made in guilt one night.
So in a nutshell here are your milestones. At some point you started walking. I think it was around 14mths. You also started talking somewhere along the line. I can't remember your exact first word but I am hazarding it was "NO!" or "MINE". You got teeth. And once I took you for a haircut and you kept moving so there is one blurred photo knocking around in a drawer somewhere.
Your milestones unfortunately got mixed in along the way with your big sisters tantrums, and potty training, and nursery drop offs, and pre-school starting. The list goes on and on and on.
I'm sorry. But I want you to know, whilst there is no Cath Kidston style scrap book to mark the start of your life, what you did get is the benefits of being 'second'. You got a mum who wasn't as overly anxious when you tripped into mud and who didn't follow you around a soft play like a maniac stalker monitoring your every move. You were allowed chocolate at a much earlier age and you could cane a 99 ice cream before you could crawl. You got 'Relaxed Mum'. You got 'a bit distracted so you got away with blue murder mum'.
You have spent far too many nights tucked up in bed with us as we didn't want you to wake your sister by crying. You had a ready made playdate in the form of her and you will have the benefit of always being the baby. You weren't shoved into a big boys' bed at two and potty trained shortly after like your sister. You, my boy, are living the life of riley.
So let's make a deal. When you are older and you ask to look at your scrapbook and I have to fess up and say there isn't one. You remember this - next year, when your big sister is at school and we have a full year to ourselves. We had the most fun a mother and a two/three year old boy can humanly have. It will involve Thomas Land, it will involve Fruit Shoots and it will most definitely feature the odd snuggle on the couch eating Smarties. So don't moan too much, eh?
More on Parentdish: Second child syndrome