photo courtesy of https://www.flickr.com/photos/indraw/
Dear My Second Child,
I love you more than you could ever know, but I want you to know that I’m fully cognizant that you being the second child has impacted my life and yours. So much so, that I feel compelled to apologize for it.
I am sorry that I have not memorized the names of all of your preschool classmates. Nor do I even recognize most of their parents. With your sister, I reached out to and befriended my new preschool parent posse. But rest assured that now, I pass by all parents equally in a zombie like state.
My brain is just too full of other stuff. I am not superhuman.
I am sorry that, too soon, we abandoned those board books, nursery rhymes, and lullabies. Now you are forced to endure more advanced books as your sister learns to read. On second thought, scratch that. Perhaps while moving on from lullabies is sad, more advanced stuff is good for your brain.
Trust me kid, build your brain while you still can.
But I am sorry, my dear second child, that there aren’t as many pictures of you. True, I do have hundreds, but when your sister was four, there was probably a hundred more of her at that age. I have lost my real camera, and my smart phone died, and I can’t figure out how to get pictures off my new iPhone.
Get used to it, kid. Just accept that you will be the one to help me learn new technology from this point forward.
My sweet little boy, I’m sorry that I still carry you and hold you like a baby even when you laugh and giggle and say, “Stop it, Mom!”. You see, your sister is getting too big for me to do that, and you’re still small and light. And you’ll have to forgive me if I give you a long hug even if it embarrasses you in front of your buds.
I know you’re a big boy, but you’re my last baby and I’m trying to savor it. It just comes with the territory of being my second kid. Sorry :).
Love,
Mom
About Mary Beth Cox