To My Youngest Child

Dear Baby of the Family,

You’re my youngest child, the last baby I’ll ever have, and the one thing that was missing from this family all of these years. You get the benefit of all of our experience with your older siblings, the relaxation of rules, and a playroom full of used toys.

Sometimes I’m not sure if I should feel bad for your place in the pecking order or congratulate you for being the one least likely to get in trouble. However, as you get older, I feel like there are a few things I need to apologize for.

I’m sorry for the time I pushed you down when you started to crawl. I knew what was coming and I wasn’t quite ready for it.

I’m sorry that we have a cabinet full of pink cups, purple bowls and flowered plates since you’re the only boy and we’re too cheap to replace everything now.

I’m sorry for squeezing you a little too tight and crying that time you gave me a kiss without me asking. Mamas get a little emotional sometimes.

I’m sorry you never get new clothes since all of our friends and family have already had boys, and hand-me-downs are much more cost-effective and earth-friendly than always buying new. (I’m also sorry they all have other people’s initials on them…)

I’m sorry I don’t take you to the park as much as I did your older sisters – I’m pretty parked out. Luckily you seem to like our back yard just fine.

I’m sorry I keep arranging your hot wheels by color instead of playing crash, like you would rather. (Although that may be an anal “me” thing instead of a youngest child thing.)

I’m sorry for that time you fell and scraped your knee and I didn’t immediately rush over with a hug and a band aid. We’ve learned that sometimes it’s better to not react and just let you shake it off.

I’m sorry if I rock you just a little too long at bedtime. I know these days are numbered and you’ll be too big to fit on my lap soon.

I’m sorry your older siblings don’t like the way you play Godzilla with their Barbie houses and are always shutting you out of their rooms.

I’m sorry I don’t allow play-doh or glitter in the house anymore. I blame your sisters, so take it up with them.

I’m sorry I seem to forget your name every now and then, and instead call you by your sibling’s, dad’s or the dog’s names.

Most of the time I find so much joy in the way you’re growing, learning and developing. I love how your personality is emerging, so distinct from your sibling’s but with little hints of them in you. I love watching you discover new things and try new stunts. But it’s all a little bittersweet since every time you move onto the next step I know that’s the last time I’ll get to be in the previous one.

So keep growing, keep doing and keep learning. Just give your mama a bit of a break now and then when she holds you just a little too long or hugs you just a little too tight.

Love,

Your Mom