only children

Long ago, while reading Cheaper by the Dozen (the book, written by Frank B. Gilbreth, Jr., and Ernestine Gilbreth Carey—well worth a read), I came across the comment (paraphrased): "Father only raised 12 children; Mother raised 12 only children." And it stayed with me, because that's what I would like to do. Raise three only children.

Now, I'm an only child. (Technically, I have a half-brother, but he's 21 years younger and I've seen him less often than he is years old.) And I don't like it. Because you can't replace that relationship, no matter how hard you try. A sibling is a special person in your life, and I am so glad that my children will grow up with that relationship. I'm not knocking it, at all. But.

Today I was reminded of that line from Cheaper by the Dozen—I spent the afternoon shopping with one boy, and the evening taking a walk with the other. And particularly the time I spent alone with Charles was a potent reminder of the way their personalities blossom when they have the parental spotlight to themselves. It's beautiful to listen to them play together when they don't know you're there ... but it's also really nice to spend some time one-on-one and to really hear what they have to say. They're calmer, more focused, and more there when it's just you and them. With three kids, I find the usual. The oldest one is easy because there are so many more things you can do. The youngest one, no worries, because there will be so much time while the others are in school. The middle one ... the opportunities must be made because they don't come as naturally. Simple things like taking a short walk together make such a difference in helping each child to feel, in turn, like your only child. Something to remember.