Reasons my Second is Crying: The Little Sister Edition

Before I get started I want to go ahead and set the stage for the difference between the first and second born. When designing the nursery for my first we actually considered hiring an artist for her room mural. When asked what the theme was for my second daughter’s room my response was a tired, “Uh, baby?”

It is a known fact that the birth order makes a difference in their personalities and ultimately who they become as adults. But no pressure there, parents. I catered to my eldest’s every whimper and whine, leading me to believe that The Boy Who Cried Wolf was definitely the first born. My youngest child has been molded into a tolerant and independent little love who typically only cries for important reasons, while my oldest cries when we can’t get to a Band-Aid fast enough, I hand her the wrong Band-Aid, or heaven help us if we run out of Band-Aids.

Here are the very legitimate reasons my second child is crying:

1). Her hand is wrist deep in her sister’s mouth and I’d venture to guess that touching someone else’s uvula feels a little weird.

2). After the fourth popsicle swap with her sister, she didn’t appreciate ending up with the one that was dipped in the sandbox.

3). She is tired of being used as the Hokey Pokey puppet when it’s time to “shake it all about”.

4). My oldest has been feeding her baby doll her sister’s milk for the past 10 minutes, and she’s not allowed to drink it until the doll is finished.

5). Their shared bath time experience isn’t just rubber ducks and bubbles, she's often a participant in market research on tear-free shampoo and some light Chinese water torture. 

If the second child is crying, you'd better bring two Band-Aids, one to entertain your first and one for the actual boo boo.

Young Love

Just when we are all losing faith in humanity, a couple of two year olds have found love. My daughters are beautiful, but Charlotte is no picnic, so I am grateful for Jack because he adores her for the little spitfire that she is. I recognize your skepticism since most kids at this age refuse to like anything that isn't Elmo or small enough to be stuck up their nose. But Jack and Charlotte are the real deal. They hold hands, ask about each other incessantly and their favorite activity is to dance the night away (or until bedtime at 6:45pm) to live music at the Farmer’s Market.

Absolutely everything about their friendship is adorable and here is a list of reasons why young love is the best:

1). Their version of relationship drama is when they are not able to sit in the swing together.

2). They only know how to dance like nobody is watching.

3). They make up pet names for each other. Jack calls her “Char Char” and Charlotte lets him.

4). They encourage each other to try new things: Charlotte introduced Jack to organic lollipops and now Jack’s mom has a bone to pick with me.

5). They hold hands when slides get too scary.

6). They have been in a love for 3 months or 1/10th of their lives, which is longer than any junior high romance which typically can only last for a series of 10 text messages.

7). Their celebrity couple name could be #Jacklotte. 

Happy birthday to Jack’s mommy, Emily, my dear friend and original inventor of those sweet dance moves.

Preschool and the Pretty Please List

I went to a parent co-operative preschool from the ages of 2 to 4 and have nothing but fond memories of my time there. So naturally I couldn’t wait for Charlotte to go to the magical land of glitter play-doh, splatter painting, and most importantly, a place I’m not in charge of cleaning.

So many things were running through my head as I held hands with my little girl and walked her through those seemingly metaphorical rainbow gates. We already have everything we could ever dream of, but here is my pretty please list for preschool:

Pretty please don’t let my kid be that kid: the follower, the smelly, or the screamer.

Pretty please don’t let me be that parent. I promise not to become the PTA president (at least not this year). And please grant me the ability to do all my worrying and crying in the privacy of my own car.

Pretty please don’t let me slip further than a 5 on the “Anal-Retentive Scale of Worry”. I pray preschool doesn’t keep me up at night hallucinating about giant colonies of head lice and rogue strains of bacterial meningitis.

Pretty please don’t pick up any new swear words, bite marks or bad behavior.

Now go forth and shine as bright as the twinkle little stars we must incessantly sing about.