Second Child

To My Goosie,

I used to feel bad for you, Goose, because you never got much special alone time with me like your sister did. See, for the first three years (2 years, 11 months, and 1 week) of her life, she was an only child. She got everything we had to offer — all of our time, attention, and affection. But you never got that. From the very beginning, you always had a sibling; you always had someone to compete with for attention.

And I sometimes think back to the early days with Magoo and how I would spend my entire day reading her books and labeling objects for her. It was just what we did. And I see it in her personality. She’s a typical first born. She likes pleasing people.  If she gets reprimanded for anything, she melts into a pile on the floor.

You, on the other hand, you make sure that people are looking before you do something you aren’t supposed to do.  It’s like a game for you.  You will take a look at us, give us a huge grin, and take off running for the dog’s food or the nearest electrical outlet.  While your sister pretends to be a princess on the carousal, you try to climb to the top to figure out how it all works.  You keep us on our toes.

This evening I got an interesting glimpse into your life.  Daddy got free tickets to see Brave, so he took Magoo on a special daddy-daughter date.  I’m not sure who was more excited.  And that meant that I got to spend the evening with you.  And we spent it in much the same way that I used to spend time with your sister when she was your age.  We read books and sang songs.  It was quiet and peaceful.  When it was time for you to watch a television show before bed, you cuddled with me on the couch.

All of this has been very eye opening for me because I saw you with different eyes.  You were different when you had all the attention.  You sat still and played with one thing for longer because you didn’t have as many distractions.  You read with me for longer instead of taking off after Magoo.  But there was less laughter in your eyes, less bounce in your step.

And that’s when I realized — the gifts we are able to give to you are different from the ones we were able to give to your sister, but they are no less important.  When your sister was spending days cuddled on couches reading books and listening to stories, you have spent your days chasing her around the house and collapsing in fits of giggles when you catch her.  She had the gift of undivided attention for her first few years, and you have the gift of a constant companion and partner in crime.

I guess it’s time I stop trying to figure out how every action or lack of action on my part affects you both as people.  Because my actions do affect you as do the actions of everyone around you.  But there’s no telling whether those effects will be positive or negative.

Perhaps you were sent into this world, into our lives, to learn lessons that you alone were meant to learn.  You were born with a destiny and all of your circumstances help you create it.

And for any advantages I was or was not able to give you, you are already a remarkable little person.  You have a spark and a spirit that is unquenchable.  You are brave and tenacious and persistent and so very affectionate.  And through it all, I am very proud to know you.