The first child
is always first.
Always.
And it makes me kind of crazy.
Because the second child is now
the middle child.
And the third child has to just
cope
with everything that the first child
needs.
And there is always something he needs.
Help tying his shoes.
Another snack.
More water in his Thermos.
To be read to.
A hug.
Attention.
He always needs my attention.
And his first younger sister
the now middle child
has always been second.
Because she is patient
and understanding
and kind.
Because she can entertain herself
comfortably
happily.
She is not nervous
and anxious
and demanding
like her older brother.
Who must always come first.
And tonight I find myself shopping
online
for sheets for his new bed.
And a new radio for his new room.
And shoes for his growing feet
that soon will be taking him off to kindergarten.
And I’m sad for his sister
who has shared a room with him
for all of her life
and who is getting rid of him
but gaining another roommate
and who will have to cope with what we already have right now
the same bedding
the same everything.
And I know it doesn’t really matter
and that she doesn’t even care.
But still.
That first child
is still
demanding more and more and more.
And, wait, didn’t I have another child around here somewhere?
What am I going to do with her?

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Originally published in August 2009