A letter to my second child

Dear Second Child,

I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry for a number of things…

I’m sorry that your older sister has spent the first few years of her life dressed in beautiful outfits from the The White Company and Petit Bateau, while you are usually dressed in a mixture of The Grey Company and Sunken Bateau.

But look on the bright side – at least you don’t have an older brother…

I’m sorry that your sister’s bedroom looks like it comes straight out of a luxury catalogue for home furnishings

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where as yours looks like it comes out the opening scene of Homeland.

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But that’s nothing a few teddies and cushions can’t fix. I’ll nab those from your sister’s room at some point…

I’m sorry that your sister’s Baby Book has every “achievement”, gift and moment meticulously recorded and photographed but, eight months in, I still cant actually find your Baby Book.

I’m sorry that you are yet to go to a Monkey Music class, swimming lesson or Baby Yoga session when your sister was doing all three on the same day (usually with a massage at lunch).

I’m sorry that I have been known to rock you in your bouncer with my foot while I am watching Toy Story 3 with your sister.

I’m sorry that you are yet to have a quiet relaxing bath by yourself without your sister pouring water in your mouth, putting a rubber duck on your head or, just once mind, peeing on you.

But as you never go to yoga or swim, do you really need to bathe?

I’m sorry that I often leave you in your highchair with food all over your chin/head/hands/ears (how?) while I spend twenty minutes trying to find the Halloween episode of Paw Patrol for your sister or explain to her that I just simply cannot put a broken banana back together.

I’m sorry that your mother feeds you kale, sweet potato and quinoa while your sister gets to have toast, pasta and ice cream. Your time will come…

I’m sorry that your sister has the new doll’s house, scooter and buggy whilst, by the time they get to you, most of your toys will look like things Oliver Twist might turn his nose up at.

I’m sorry that it seems life is unfair and, as a second child myself, I appreciate your frustration and annoyance. (I once nearly went to nursery with a jumper saying my brother’s name on it).

But, and here is the kicker, life is unfair and, on the whole, you will get the second bite of the cherry – literally when it comes to rice cakes.

But really I am not sorry at all for these small “sacrifices” you and we have to make for you and your sister.

And I am not sorry for loving you just as much as your sister – sometimes even more when she is it that mood – every minute of every day.

I am not sorry that your mother and I now seem to have a little bit more confidence in raising a child and wont rush you to A&E if you cough for more than 12 seconds.

I’m not sorry that everything we do is for the best for you and your sister – although it may not seem like it at the time.

I know it seems like you get the rough end of the deal and will always be number two to your sibling, but she will never have what you have – two parents who now have a vague grasp on what they are doing and, more importantly, a best friend in your older sister who will love, care, comfort and watch out for you for ever.

Or steal your clothes, money and boyfriends.

Lets see what happens…

Love, Daddy x

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One reply on “A letter to my second child”
  1. says: Squashed raisins

    I love this post! I would say exactly the same things to my poor second child – especially “I’m sorry that you have to go to nursery in your sister’s old winter coat” (it’s clearly for girls).

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